Bassilius And Other Stories
by The Abbot of Beregost
Summary: A small collection of stories from the Baldur's Gate series, chronicling the early adventures of the Unnamed Hero from Bar Talk. NEW: Sort of story arc!
1. Default Chapter

**Bassilius**

It was hot, that day. Hot for a late summer afternoon. Hot for the Sword Coast. Hot by any stretch of the word, hot for any peasant or smithy or nobleman. But for us, us six lying flat on our stomachs in the wilds south of Beregost, it was infernal. The bugs bore down on us, armor feeling like it was made of lead. My mail was dusty and sweat soaked. All of us lay flat on our stomachs in a line, mostly hidden behind a small hill. To my right, Khalid shifted. He saw exactly what I did, what we faced. It made us all uneasy, watching Bassilius. He seemed perfectly happy, drinking from a waterskin and chatting with his 'family'. I fidgeted, my shield chafing my arm. I remembered Footy.

Poor Footy, kid never had a chance. He came out here to play, only to find this mad cleric raising hell...in the most literal sense of the word. He saw his older brother's corpse among the many walking dead that Bassilius surrounded himself with. I urged him to run to Beregost, to run and not stop until he was home. Instead, he wandered off with a smile on his face to continue playing this 'game'. Innocence and guilt were so hard to discern, that day. Footy could have ran home, told everyone where Bassilius was...but he didn't. He just sat, and watched the man defile the dead. Me and my friends, we could have died, and no one would have been the wiser.

Minsc scooted over, whispered to me, "At least three zombies, and a dozen skeleton bowmen. Boo is unhappy with the situation. He demands justice for this horror."

Xan all but groaned aloud in despair. He fidgeted. He sighed. I saw Jaheria just about crank her hand back to give him one upside the head. As much as he threatened to give us away, he was a competent mage and excellent friend. Suddenly, I spotted movement beyond the mad cleric. It was Footy, in the woods, watching and smiling. Even from across the glade, we heard him slip and crush a branch underfoot. Then again, the only sounds in the clearing were the moaning of the dead and Bassilisus's ranting. Even the birds refused to go near him.

Bassilius stood, hefting his hammer and shield.

"Who is that? Who's there? Who dares disturb me while I talk to my family? I'll have your heads if you..." he called out into the woods.

Everyone froze. I cursed, struggled to to my feet. I could feel Imoen and Jaheria's hands grabbing at my pants. I advanced, shield ready and mace in hand into the scorching sunlight. Bassilius gasped as he saw me, voice trembling.

"No, it can't be! Is it really you, father? It cannot be otherwise, you haven't changed in years!"

Well, this certainly isn't going to end well, I thought to myself. I took a slow step forward.

"Uhh...yes, my son. It certainly HAS been a long time. How are uh, are you doing, my boy?"

"As well as could be expected, I guess. It's been difficult, but I managed to get most of the family back together. Some of them couldn't remember me...but I helped them recall."

I saw Jaheria and Imoen, circling around behind him, hiding behind the standing stones. My mace was slippery in my hands as I struggled for words, the leather slick with sweat. All their sightless eyes were upon me.

"Uhh, no matter. I've not seen you seen Zhentil Keep. Thank..uhh..the gods that we all got out safely."

One foot in front of the other. Step by step. He was only fifteen feet away. I heard shuffling in the background, the creak of bone on bone behind me. There went my chance to retreat.

"Yes, though it was frightening for a time because I thought I was the only one who survived. I thought I was the only one...the only one of us who..."

I saw confusion in his eyes, realization. Twelve feet between us. The archers would cut me down before I took two steps. I tensed. Sweat was pouring down my back, into my eyes.

"You lie. You LIE! You cannot be my father! He died when I left...when I..."

Ten feet. Imoen had an arrow nocked, the string undrawn. She wouldn't be able to save me from the archers, even if she killed Bassilius. I could see the fear in Jaheria's eyes. There was nothing left to lose. I finished his sentence, filling myself with Lathander's holy wrath.

"When you ran away from home and left them to die? You are a coward and a murderer, and today you face judgment!"

His face contorted with anger, and we all felt a wave of guilt and madness wash over us. The skeletons collapsed around me, zombies falling to the ground. The clearing was now covered in mounds of rotting flesh and piles of bone and dust.

"No, they lived, all of them! I saved them all and they live! I...I ran."

A confession. Minsc and Khalid were charging to my side, heavy footfalls a relief to my ears. I heard Xan starting a spell. Imoen was aiming. Jaheria was leaping to her feet. I was lurching into a run, chainmail weighing me down.

"Dead, all dead."

Eight feet.

"No! It cannot be! It isn't true!You lie! You...you will die for slighting my memory!"

Six feet. He began summoning the wrath of his dread god. I wasn't going to be able to stop him, I braced myself...only to see Imoen's arrow lodge in his back. He cried out, but the mass of energy had already been unleashed. Minsc and Khalid were paralyzed behind me, helpless. Magic missiles flew from the woods, pummeling him, and I knew Xan would be there, supporting us from afar as he readied a throwing dagger. Bassilius was an excellent fighter, and deflected my first strike off his shield. Unfortunately for him, Jaheria's two-handed staff strike knocked his helmet off. He lashed out at her, his hammer catching her in the upper arm. She cried out as electricity flowed through the wound, her arm broken. That proved his fatal mistake. I swung at his head as hard as I could, taking him in the back of the head with a horizontal sweep of my bludgeon. I did not stop clubbing him until his head was a stump at the end of his shoulders.

We all collapsed from the heat. Jaheria nursed her arm, setting down her staff as she looked at the wound. Minsc pancaked out on the makeshift bench, clearing bones and a crossbow off of it. We all lay there, sweaty masses.

"Hey, are you going to look at this? I can't heal myself now, you know," Jaheria called out to me.

"Yes, fine, fine."

I walked over, calling upon Lathander to heal her as she bit her lip and helped be set her bone.

"Th-that was extremely brave of you. G-gorion would be proud," Khalid said. Energy surged through Jaheria's arm, knitting the bone together again.

"Thank you...you FOOL! You could have been KILLED! It is a miracle you weren't!" Jaheria started yelling, grabbing me by the throat. Everyone laughed, and we made camp that night under the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** If I had money, I'd send a cheque to the Pocket Plane Group instead of doing stupid things. Anyways, after a long bout with the NPC mod for BG1, I've decided to make a small collection of my 'early' stories about the Unnamed Hero from my other story, Bar Talk. They tend to be a little darker, but I still like them. Enjoy. All of them are dedicated to the Pocket Plane Group, whose work in fleshing out the game I can only aspire to.

I threw another log on the fire, grimacing. Xan and Minsc were arguing over something, but that wasn't what was bothering me. My arm was, my arm and the sensation that I was being _watched_. The cobwebbed tree of Cloakwood scared me. They didn't seem to bother Kivan, or Branwen, or Minsc. Imoen was a little creeped out and so was Dynaheir, but that was to be expected. Too many spiders.

I hate spiders.

It was time to bed down. Minsc was putting down a hammer- he had just set up his witches tent. Kivan was throwing something into the stewpot. We hadn't seen so much as a squirrel in days- the spiders had probably eaten them all. I shrugged my left arm, rolling it in the joint. the wound protested. I groaned a little, began taking off my armor.

"Something bothering you, Lathandiran?"

"Nothing, nothing Branwen."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

My stunt had backfired a wee bit. It worked, sure, but I was missing half an eyebrow, among other things. I remembered the 'ping' that the potion made, the ungodly smell after. Thank the Dawnlord that no one but me was hurt- I was largely responsible for this ill-planned and ill advised adventure. The incursion into Cloakwood was turning out only slightly better than the raid on the bandit camp- Khalid and Jaheira were laid out at the Friendly Arm Inn, after she had been badly poisoned and he had his leg rebroken. It had been a bad, bad idea to go up against a camp of sixty with only eight of my buddies. I screwed up, and people got hurt.

There was only one piece left to my platemail. Kivan was watching, Branwen beside him. They knew. But I wasn't going to admit it. I was paying the price. I wriggled the plate. It seemed stuck, like it was glued on...

Oh, crap.

I remembered the searing heat, my shield not big enough, and the burn...and shrugging it off in a burst of adrenaline. That was hours ago. I wiggled it a little more. Branwen exchanged another glance with Kivan, started forward. I held up my hand.

"No. I'm fine."

I went for my boot knife. I used it for eating, more than anything. Gritting my teeth, I slid it tenderly along the inside of the shoulder plate. At first, I felt nothing. The skin was melted on, alright. Nice and dead. I kept pushing, THEN I felt it. Nice sharp pain. I looked up, Imoen was watching now, trying to explain the situation to Minsc. Kivan's dead eyes watched as I slowly seperated myself from my armor plate. Finally, it dropped to the ground.

"Damn it, man," cursed Branwen, grabbing a roll of bandages, "you are acting like a damn fool and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah."

"What would Jaheira say, whelp?"

"I know."

"You have no need to show us that you are warrior-born. Tempus already blesses you, so much is clear."

"No. No it isn't."

"Shut up. What you did in that cave was reckless."

I had gotten close enough to the spider queen, hand out of sight behind my back like a nobleman, and let her ramble on till I let the pin on the potion go and tossed it at her. The others had stayed back, barely. I had been scorched a little, but the spiders died or were hurt so bad it was easy to finish them off.

"What's Khalid going to say when he sees this scar, hmm? Hmmm?"

"I'm not a little boy, Branwen."

The sound her hand made when it hit my head reminded of me of the time when Minsc broke a broadsword on a tasloi.

"You are! You might be a warrior, a strong one, but you are still but a whelp. Learn the difference between stupidity and courage quickly, for Tempus does not look kindly on idiots. We are your friends, remember that."

"Ow."

Tears streamed down my face as I sat back up. Branwen looked worried, before finally breaking down cursing and stomping off into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **There's a mispelled tip of the hat in there somewhere. Unnamed PC apparently likes boats. Also, for future reference, expect absolutely no chronology to the posted chapters. They're just supposed to be snapshots of his life, I guess.

I was in a daze, staring out across the docks near the harbor when Kivan just about startled me out of my skin.

"What the matter?" he wheezed. Tazok's rough handling had left him with permanent neck damage.

"Nothing. Just looking at the boats."

He nodded, resting his hands against the rails beside me. The salt breeze made his cloak ruffle.

"Never did like boats."

"I'm not surprised. Raised near water?"

"No."

"Well, Candlekeep rests on a cliff overlooking the sea. I got to watch all the boats come and go from Baldur's Gate. When I was young, I always dreamed of a life on the sea. I read everything I could on the subject, then puked by guts up the first time Gorion took me out sailing."

"Oh."

"That one, there- the one with the blue nose- is the _Merry Ellen Carter_. She's been sailing from Baldur's Gate to Amn for decades. I used to watch her pass, usually four times a month. Fifth and the twenty-third. Looking at her now, I keep thinking of Gorion. He took the time to see me out on the water, then took me back without being disappointed."

"He sounds like a good man."

"He was, Kivan. Much like your wife. Well, not like that...you know what I mean. Family. He was my father."

"I am sorry, did I bring up painful memories?"

"They were already there. No worries, we have work to do."

I turned, bumped into Yeslick.

"It's done."

"What's done, old man?"

"Imoen found the gloves. They were over by the Temple of the Bitch Queen."

"That was a lot of work."

"Yes, but we are a cause for good, young man. Even if that good could have been done by a ten year old. Clangeddin's hammer, though, she gets into places she shouldn't be."

"She was always like that. Doesn't matter. We could use the coin.Let's go, I'm hungry."

Kivan turned away to join the others, who were clustered in front of a warehouse. I could see Jaheira and Dynaheir arguing over something again, didn't care. Yeslick stopped me.

"What's with you?"

"Huh?"

"You sit there, staring at ships like you're moon-brained. Before this, you take apart a carrion crawler with a stump of wood because the rest of your mace broke off inside the foul thing. Before that, you saved the souls of two of your party members for nothing. You're working on redeeming Kivan- best of luck with that, by the way- while stomping the life out of assassins chasing you up and down the Coast."

"So?"

"Everything you do, everything I've heard you've done, is indisputably good. Saintly, even. There's just a sense of underlying violence, viciousness I don't know what to think about. Hell, I don't even know what to think of your past. Foster son of a powerful mage associated with Harpers, chased by assassins, hired murderers, and bandits with every step he takes, and yet still has managed to break the back of the banditry and stop the Iron Crisis."

"I'm not getting your point."

"Most people would have hid, but you didn't. You went after whatever force is against you like a war-dog going for the throat. But in doing that, you've done nothing but save lives and make people happy. You've been merciful, you've been kind and charitable. You killed over a hundred bandits arrayed against you."

"I couldn't hide, Yeslick! They were inside Candlekeep, everywhere!"

"So, you continue your quest. And the consequences of your actions ring across the Coast. But, more importantly, you've assembled twenty people. A quarter of them you've saved from death- Branwen, myself, Dynaheir, Viconia, and the depressed elf- and two thirds of them would follow you into the bowels of the Hells if you asked as much."

"No, they wouldn't. I don't believe it. Some have joined up because they feel they have an obligation, like you. Some are in it for the ride, and some are in it because we both want the same thing- an end to all this banditry and stuff."

Yeslick stared up up at me, eyebrow cocked.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"I do. I really do. Eldoth and Alora aren't going to follow me anywhere they don't want to go."

"No, they wouldn't. But the rest of us would. It's not obligation or debt, it's not like a loan for a beer. It's loyalty. You planted the seeds when you helped each of us out in some way."

"Loyalty, maybe. But I'm not going to put you all in harm's way if I don't have to."

"We don't get in harm's way because of you, we do it for you. You'll get it sooner or later. Also, that reminds me. You owe me for last night's beer."


	4. Chapter 4

We ate in silence.

Imoen had the forethought to grab some of Winthrop's rations when she ran away, but not much else. A bow, a few arrows, and all her knicknacks and coins. Three iron rations, some cheese, some bread. So, I sat on the road, Gorion's possessions spread between us as we ate. A scroll, a dagger, a small sack of gold, and some gems from the ogres were all I could scavenge as Imoen looked on. The food was all bloodied, along with most of his other stuff.

The image of him spitted on the armored man's blade flashed through my mind. I winced a little, and my face hurt. The burn didn't hurt much, from the woman's fire spell, but it was hard to move my face with the cut the arrow made. Solid line, just below my eye. I got it turning around, looking back. She just barely missed. I think it had some acid in it, because it stopped bleeding pretty quick. It just stung. It was shallow, I could tell, but it hurt more than anything I had really experienced, physically, ever.

I sniffled a little, took Imoen's extended canteen.

"Soooo..." she asked hesitantly, "Where to now?"

"We can't go back. And the armored man might be looking for me still. I want to try to get to the Friendly Arm Inn, where ever that is. Gorion said I should go there if we ever get separated."

She nodded.

"I suppose this counts, eh?" I remarked bitterly. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I'm in waaaaaaaaay over my head, big bro. But I'll stick by you. You seem to have your head together."

"No, Imoen, I don't! I'm coming apart at the seams. I don't know what to do after I get to the Inn, how to get there..."

"Calm down, c'mon! We'll be okay."

"I don't know, I really don't."

"You'll be fine. Take a little walk, talk to Lathander. He'll give you guidance, right?"

"Whaddya mean, 'right'?"

"I don't know, I'm not one of his acolytes! I don't talk to the gods!"

I grumbled, brushed the crumbs off my chainmail and absentmindedly rubbed my face. She was right.I needed a walk and a chat with a higher power. The Morninglord had never spoken to me, personally. I just got urges, needs to do what I realized was his bidding. There weren't any of his priests around ever, so I learned what I could from the library. The dogma was a bit harsh, and some of the rituals I didn't understand, but the basic principles were there.

I remember the day I started in the faith, so to speak. I had always watched the sunset when I could, and sunrise if I was up early enough. I'd head up to the highest point Gorion would let, or if he wasn't looking, the highest point I could climb to. He was always protective of me. Anyways, two years before he died, I went up to the parapets to watch the sunset. It was gorgeous, reds and oranges spilling across the water. I thought about Lathander's doctrines- strength, renewal, goodness- and I just enjoyed the sight until the stars came out. I went to bed that night, and when I woke up...well, I knew I had the power to heal. I told Gorion, and he smiled and ruffled my hair.

"Son, you've found your path in life. I'm proud of you."

The words rang a little hollow now, lost in the wilderness and exiled. No more sunsets over the sea, gleaming dawns that made the waves shine like steel. I looked up to watch the final bit of the dawn, oranges fading into blazing glory as I walked along the woods.

_What do you want me to do_, I thought to myself, eyes closed.

I wouldn't call it a voice, just an urge.

_What you always do. Help. Heal. Be a beacon of light as best you can. _

It seemed so simple, now. I dashed back to Imoen, re-invigorated.

"Alright, Imoen! I know what to do- head to the Friendly Arm Inn, and from there...well, we make a difference. Gorion may be gone, and we'll mourn him when we're out of danger, but until then...well, we make a difference."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This piece is based off a banter in the BG1 Tutu NPC mod, in all its glory. If you can, get the mod from the Pocket Plane Group. It's gorgeous, and this little piece goes out to them. Also, the better part of the lyrics are traditional songs from taverns.

"Happy Birthday!" Imoen squealed.

I grunted in surprise. Everyone was grinning knowingly. I just stepped out of the latrine in Three Old Kegs, as everyone sat around tables. We practically filled the first floor up. The food was already ordered, paid for with a pearl, along with drinks. A tall, frosty mug of ale sat in front of a plate, ready to be loaded down with a meal fit for the dukes of the city themselves. Everyone waited for me to be seated, as Garrick and Eldoth tuned their instruments. I smiled shyly.

"Well, ummm, folks...s'not my birthday today."

A groan erupted.

"We know, _jaluk_. Imoen told your tale to us."

Murmurs of approval all around.

"However, since you are of age unknown, and since no one knows your birthday, it might as well be now."

Well, I couldn't argue with that. 1 Mirtul it was. I sat down at the head of the table, feeling pretty good. Everyone was smiling, hungry gazes directed at the massive slab of roast beef sitting in the center of the table every few seconds. Minsc looked expectantly at me.

"Minsc...errr...why are you staring at me with a carving knife in your hand?"

"Boo demands we not cut the meat until you give the word."

"Go for it, Minsc. Everyone, dig in."

They did with alarming speed, ladling out boiled carrots in butter, beans, mashed potatoes and corn in great spoonfuls. Minsc attacked the meat, slicing it quickly and efficiently as he tossed the largest, rarest piece onto my plate. Hooray. Once everyone's plate was full, Branwen held out a hand.

"It is tradition for a warrior to deliver a toast to a fellow once they reach the age of majority. You, you are a blooded warrior now, filled with faith and terrible fury. To you, I say...may you live long, and die on your feet as a man should! Tempus bless you!"

A roar, and everyone raised their flagons. Ale flew, and we drank deeply. The meal continued with relative silence, yet good cheer. We were adventurers, and more used to iron rations and lean times than meat and vegetables. Everyone ate, savored the meal as only we could. It was delicious, and already beginning to get a little tipsy, I tipped the chef fifty gold. We were rich, then. Among the twenty men and women at the table, there was ten thousand gold worth of coin and jewels. Another twenty-five of armor and weapons hung from belts or were propped in a corner. It was a nice break from fetch and carry quests, or from fighting all manner of beast.

"Minsc," Dynaheir said, "Mouth closed whilst thou chews! And remove thine hamster from the beans. Our comrades have no desire to consume hamster fur."

Khalid snickered, and Jaheira shot him a glance. That quieted him down. At the far end of the table, Alora and Skie were engaged in a lively discussion I couldn't hear over the scrape of fork and knife. I listened to the conversations flowing about me as I chewed.

"Pass the gravy, please."

"Aye, tis a fine lager, but the spirits of..."

"One day, Tiax will point and click, and all of this feasting will be for HIM!"

"Is the mad gnome talking about pointing and clicking again?"

"Yes, but all the power in the world won't save our doomed, dismal mission or our messy and predictable deaths. Carrots are good, though the meat leaves much to be desired, much like the rest of ..."

"Someone put some more ale in the elf!"

I laughed. The banter was good, refreshing. Better than the squabbling on the road, or the grumbles around the campfire. Everyone was having a good time. Eventually, the food was cleared away, and the REAL party began. Eldoth and Garrick took a seat on stools, carefully placed on a small podium apparently expressly constructed for minstrels and bards. Eldoth wobbled one of the weak-looking wooden stool uncertainly before easing himself onto the cushion and strumming his instrument carefully. Garrick stared off into space, not really paying attention. A few notes drifted over the rising conversation. My friends spread out across the room a bit.

"Having fun, big bro?"

I took a sip of my refilled beer, considering the scene. Everyone smiling, talking, good music, good friends, good food. It couldn't get much better than this.

"Yeah, Imoen. Thanks. I appreciate you treating everyone like this."

"No problem! Here. I made this for you...I found the bits and pieces when we went to bury Gorion..."

She handed me a small package.I opened it, and sure enough, there was a small necklace. Small baubles strung along a silk rope. I recognized one of my father's cufflinks.

"Imoen...Imoen, thanks. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it. Now, go on, have some fun."

I looked around. Yeah, about time I had a little more fun. I stood a little uncertainly, and shook my head. Clearer, at any rate. I dodged a chair and a table, sat down with Yeslick and Branwen.

"Lookin' good, whelp."

"Thanks, old man."

"Enjoying yourself, young-blood?" called out Branwen.

"Yeah, thanks Branwen."

"Scars healing?"

"Scars don't heal. They remind."

She leaned back in the chair, hair cascading down her shoulders. Her eyes appraising as she sipped her ale, she looked me over once.

"You are learning, even if you look like a quilt made by my drunk grandmother, sewn back together a few times."

"Gee, thanks. You're a great seamstress, Branwen. I'll tell everyone to direct their complements to you."

She guffawed, sending drink everywhere. Yeslick grinned through his beard, wiping droplets out of himself. Xan drifted close by, and the dwarf's hand shot out.

"Sit, pointy-ears. Feeling better about life yet?"

"Not really."

"Then you're not drinking enough."

"But I've had..."

"Drink, elf! You are here to honor the young-blood, are you not? And do not look at me like that. I share the honor of his fine stitchwork with Jaheira."

"I'm here..."

A few notes drifted over the conversations, instantly recognizable. Yeslick's booming voice cut Xan off.

_I've been a wild rover for many's a year_

_And I spent all me money on whiskey and beer,_

_And now I'm returning with gold in great store_

_And I never will play the wild rover no more..._

More voices, including mine, joined in with every word. Yeslick slapped the elf on the shoulder, just about making him spill his beer.

"Sing, Xan!"

"Yeah!"

Everyone belted the chorus.

_And it's no, nay, never!_

Everyone clapped or slammed the table with hand or mug six times, in the almost-perfect count that only drunkeness can bring.

_No, nay never no more! _

_Will I play the wild rover_

_No (nay) never no more._

Everyone sung or howled the lyrics to the song that we heard at almost every tavern. The unity was a great deal of fun to watch. I remember thinking that it was the simple things, simple things like tonight that appealed to everyone, even dour Viconia or bitter Xan . I almost caught him smile, dammit.

Yeslick excused himself, and Kivan took his place. He had something in hand, behind his back.

"I've spent many a year on the frontiers, and I've learned a lot. As much as you know about any of us, we do not know where you come from. Tonight, we get to know you."

He sat down, dead serious, and slammed a pair of shotglasses and an unmarked bottle of brown fluid down on the table.

"Kivan?"

He looked up. Branwen motioned to the bottle.

"Avenger, you brought only two glasses.Where's mine?"

It was the first time I saw something besides rage on Kivan's face. He actually cocked an eyebrow. Sure enough, he got up. By the time he got back, I was comfortably tipsy after by second beer. Hell, Branwen and Xan were watching me listen to music. Xan was almost smiling. Branwen had a goofy grin on her face. It was a sailing song, I think. I had seen Yeslick talk to Garrick between songs, before he disappeared from sight into the latrine.

_So does she not take wing like a living thing?_

_Child of the moving tide_

_See her pass with grace on the water's face _

_With clean and quiet pride..._

Kivan returned, slamming down two more glasses and disrupting my brief fancy of hopping on the Merry Ellen Carter when no one was looking. He filled them all, and we each took one, except Xan. We all sort of sat there, watching him. Judging him. He stared at the liquor, then at us, like we were mad.

"You plan to put THAT in your body?"

"Drink up, Xan. Celebrate."

Yeslick reached past, grabbed the shot.

"Slainte!"

We all nodded, threw back the whiskey. It was my first experience with the stuff. The taste wasn't bad, until my stomach exploded with flame and for an instant, I couldn't breathe. Branwen pounded me on the back until I stopped coughing. And then I was laughing, and we were all talking...

I really don't remember much after that, because we apparently finished three bottles of the stuff between us. Kivan remembers, Yeslick said he remembered. I have brief flashes- Jaheira laughing so hard she cried, Khalid arm-wrestling Shar-teel, Viconia dancing by herself, Minsc passed out on a table. That's about it. I remember the whole ordeal in a good light, at least until dawn came and the hangover began.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sparring**

"Easy, Minsc, easy."

I had a nice shiner coming up. Minsc and I were sparring again, near the Nashkel bridge. I know he was trying to take it easy on me, but...well, I was still a bit of a soft bookworm, and he was a full-on trained fighter. Khalid, Jaheira, Imoen, Dynaheir and Xan watched from the sidelines. Some called out advice.

"I don't see why this is necessary, Jaheira," I heard Imoen say.

"Quiet, child," I heard Branwen reply caustically, "his god demands athleticism, strength. This is the best way to develop it. Minsc is teaching him a skill that may save his life, or yours."

I lashed out again, going for Minsc's face, he ducked away, nodding.

"Good, good!"

"Hands up!" hollered Khalid.

Minsc moved lightly on his feet for a man six and a half feet tall and two-fifty if an ounce. He feinted left, and just missed me with a hard right. I was learning to move alright, that elven quickness coming up from deep inside of me. I wiped the sweat from my eyes and made a halfhearted kick at Minsc's lower leg.

And then I was on the ground, Minsc towering over me.

"You should not extend yourself so much, just yet."

My shoulder hurt where he palmstruck me. I accepted his hand, got to my feet, dusted myself off. I looked him over- six foot seven, a rippling mass of muscle. There was no way I was ever going to beat him at this.

"He's hurt, c'mon! C'mon, that's enough for today."

"This is utterly barbaric. Yet another flaw in our desperate quest," lamented Xan.

"Jaheira, stop this!"

"He must learn! HANDS UP!"

I raised my fists. I kept at it. Lathander expected no less, and the others were right. I needed to learn, because maybe I wouldn't be so lucky next time, end up like Nimbul a few nights ago. I planted my feet, shrugged off one of his blows, and slugged Minsc in the jaw. Full force.

That got him pissed.

He grabbed my arm, locked it in a hold. . He gave me three good jabs to the short ribs, full force. Then, I got pissed. My free arm went to his throat, and something happened, and we tripped...and I was on top of him, choking the life out of him with one hand...

And next thing I know, Khalid and Branwen have pulled us apart, and I can feel the pain. Minsc is shocked, everyone's shocked.

"Enough!"

"Let it go, Minsc!"

They got us calmed down, eventually. We shook on it, drank on it. I think he was secretly proud of me. I was learning. But Branwen and Khalid sparred with me from then on in. In hindsight, maybe it was for the best.


	7. Chapter 7

I slammed the edge of my shield down on the kobold's head with an audible crunch. There was a death rattle in the distance, knew Imoen was getting better with her bow. The mines were hell. Fairly alive with kobolds and dead men, we got as many as we could as they tried to lure us into traps. Their arrows stung, and despite carrying the biggest, heaviest shield I could I was still taking hits. The mail stopped almost all the arrows, but my arms and legs were alive with grazes.

I called a rest before a natural bridge on the third level. I was sweating like crazy, leaning up against a wall.

"By your god, child. You are certainly out of shape," Jaheira called out as she peered into the gloom ahead.

She was right. My muscles were slack, didn't have muscle tone. I couldn't run much, nor could I carry as much as Minsc or Khalid or Jaheira. Still, I was getting stronger. I was exercising every day, one way or another. Today's trek, fight with bounty hunters and kobolds was just wearing on me.

"I am. Too much time in the library."

"Why did not Gorion try to turn you into a fighter?"

"Because I'm not a fighter?"

"N-n-now, dear. Let's not be too hard on the boy."

"You venerate the Morninglord, do you not?"

"Yes, Jaheira."

"How? How did you, I wonder, gain his favor despite your outwards weakness."

"I painted, Jaheira. I wrote. I believed and committed. I don't know all the rituals, and I don't know how this is all supposed to work. But Lathander guides me, his principles. I'm doing my damnedest to bring hope out here. Nobility, fairness. I may not be strong yet, but I'm trying to get there."

She nodded, considering my words a moment. They seemed to please her, or at least appease her.

"Well then, should we survive this ordeal, we shall make a man out of you in short order, won't we dear?"

"B-b-but of course!"

"_If_ we survive," she added wryly, twinkle in her eye. She might have been skeptical of her new ward, but at least she wasn't going to leave me to the wolves, right? When I look back at how frail I was back then, I shudder. But she helped me, she and Khalid. I owed them both a great debt.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **The hardest, worst, most repetitive fight in the game. I hated it. Here, at last, is how our hero fared.

Torches in the darkness. That's what I remember most about the Warrens, the long line of torches in the darkness behind me. Imoen up ahead, looking for traps. Oh, we had been warned the place is alive with all sorts of fatal nastiness. There were four dead oozes behind us, a dozen disarmed traps too.

Imoen was getting good.

We came up on a hairpin turn. Imoen stopped, looking around carefully. We came up on her- myself, Khalid, Minsc and Branwen. Minsc had his huge Spidersbane slung over one shoulder, while the rest of us had learned from the bandit camp and brought those huge body shields along. I hefted mine carefully- it had stopped a bolt from a trap Imoen had missed already.

Me? I'd rather had been up front than her, but she persuaded me. So I let her go.

She turned, and I peaked around the corner. Nothing, she just took another step, checking for traps. I followed, still a little uneasy. The Warrens seem to extend on forever, more than the sewers, more than the Candlekeep Catacombs. But they seemed darker, somehow. Imoen took another step, and another. Khalid stood beside me.

"I am uneasy, lad."

"I know, me too."

"R-r-r-really? We should pull bad, maybe get help from the Th-thieve's Guild."

"I don't want to push them. Imoen's doing a pretty good job already."

I didn't see it coming. Imoen told me later she could see the red glow from their eyes just before the first arrows shot out of the darkness. We watched her take a few steps, kneel. Then, blurs tipped in blue. One missed her, the other struck her leg with a sizzling sound. She cried out.

"Shields!" I yelled, dropping my torch, "Get the damn shields out here!"

Minsc dropped down, picked it up, heaved the torch past her. The flames illuminated two massive skeletons with bows, nocking more arrows. I watched it all as I ran forwards, feeling an arrow spin away off my shield. Imoen cried out.

"Minsc, grab her!"

Khalid was beside me, his shield over us too. We sheltered Imoen as Minsc grabbed her and pulled her back behind the U-turn. I was working on getting the arrow out of her thigh when she gripped my shoulder.

"Don't let them go...there's a trap..."

Her head was swimming. I could see frost around the entrance wound, cursed. Kivan poked his head around the bend, narrowly missed being hit in the head by another arrow.

"What is the plan?"

My mind raced. Arrows, out. Skeletons barely noticed. We couldn't advance and fight them without setting off sort of trap. Well, we could try magic.

"Xan!"

"Oh, no. No. No."

"Send a blast from your wand their way, I've to tend to Imoen."

A rush of hot wind washed over us. A pause. I could hear the whispers behind us.

"Oh, we're doomed! All I managed to do was obliterate their bows and arrows. They're mad now, coming to hack at us with those giant blades of theirs!"

"Well, at least we got them to move," I muttered to myself. "Well, we have a few seconds, let's roll out the welcome mat, everyone!"


	9. Chapter 9

We were between the lighthouse and Beregost when they struck. The ghasts came out of the darkness as we slept. Kivan was on watch, thankfully. His voice just barely carried over the snap of his bowstring, but it was enough to wake me up. I came tearing out of my little pup tent, wearing little more than my skivvies and my mace. The first one was feathered pretty nicely, and I cut it down with ease.

Its companion, however, was a different matter. He jumped me from behind, giving me a new set of claw marks down my back. But, I couldn't move. I was trapped. Minsc cut the bastard down before too long, and everyone stomped it good, but I was still stuck. Everyone crowded around, poking me. Jaheira started working on my back, sighing dramatically and cleaning out the wounds as Xan held the torch close so she could see.

Some went back to bed. Safana oggled me a bit, then looked around. Some talked as I stood there, trapped. Jaheira worked away. I could feel the stitches going in, gentle as ever. Imoen wandered by, started whispered to Safana, giggling. I could feel it coming.

Looking around, Imoen snuck up and grabbed my free arm, making my finger point. Everyone stared a moment. She looked around, realized that the group was watching, and did it anyways.

She stuck my finger up my nose while I stood trapped.

Even Jaheira laughed when she saw what Imoen had done. Of course, I gave her the biggest wedgie elvenly possible at first opportunity...but even I remember it fondly.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I know it's short. And the last bunch have been really, really short. On the 11th, I'll tell you all why.

"Bran...Branwen," I managed to croak, "Don't go."

She was standing over my bed in the Helm and Cloak, looking sad in her armor.

"I cannot be around you. It...it..."

I gasped, struggling for breath. The battle with Sarevok had left me weak as a kitten. Somehow, at fantastic expense and with miraculous skill, Jaheira and the others had healed me. Death's doorstep didn't even come close to describing the state I was in. I already had dozens of scars up and down my body from the fights leading up to battling my brother. Now, I was covered in red gashes, pink marking three inches wide. I didn't want to think about how my brother, Tazok or his pet mage had made those.

"Stay."

"I must go. I must return to my homeland."

"Stay..."

I was wheezing desperately. I wanted her to stay. I hurt all over, could barely move. Was it so much to ask that my friends stay with me a little while? Hell, I was barely sure I was going to live. I tried to reach out to her.

"No. My care for you has left my worship of Tempus waning. I will...I will return if you call me, but I cannot stay for now. There is too much in my mind and heart..."

Golden curls flashed in the lamplight, and heavy boots pounded down the stairs. Jaheira stepped into the room, glancing behind her. She looked at my pitiable condition, and a barbed word died on her tongue. She sighed, and took to arranging my swathes of bandages.

"She had to go, whelp. For her sake."

I nodded, but didn't agree.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"Well, we're all here for you. Want some ale from downstairs?"

I kept on nodding. The shock was getting to me. I ruffled my hair gently, concern in her green eyes. She stepped out of the room, and I felt all alone. _But_, I consoled myself, _maybe it's better this way. _Jaheira returned, mug in hand. She helped me to a sitting position.

"You know," she said casually, "the rest of us are only staying here because you are too feeble to travel. Many of us want to go with you, myself and Khalid included. Because we have avenged Gorion, it does not mean we need to part ways. There is still much justice to be distributed."

"There is. I'm glad you're coming, Jaheira."

"Ha! You just say that because I keep you from dying all the time."

"No, I mean it."

She smiled.

"Now, don't move around too much, or I'll break your legs."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Sorry. I really, really can't do much without music some days. Stay tuned.

I kept dreaming, all those days on the boat back from the island. I saw it in my sleep- belonging. The one thing my blood didn't give me, belonging. Endless expanses of woodland, peace, simplicity. The pack. I could feel the others, sense them as they paced. Minsc took the tiller from me, of course. Khalid and Jaheira lay belowdecks, curled up on each other like mates should be. Should be. I still think a little like them, to this day- how things should be in that very simple, very basic way that transcends race.

For two weeks, I was a lycanthrope, something I've fought and killed so many times. Kivan paced the decks like a trapped animal, restless and growling occasionally. Everyone was infected, everyone. But, even as we were before a pack, we were doubly so afterwards. Tiax bared his teeth at Quayle as he passed. I paced to the bow and gripped the rails hard, watching the overcast sky as the boat rocked.

"Big bro."

"Yeah?"

"Minsc says we'll probably be in the Beard in a few days. Speaking of which..."

"Hmm?"

"Realize you're growing a mustache there, elfy-boy?"

"Really? I hadn't noticed. Mind's elsewhere."

"Yeh, I hear ya. Having dreams too?"

"Yes. Not the usual kind though."

"Lemme guess- running through the woods with a bunch of wolves, feeling like nothing in the world can hold you down?"

"You're kidding me. Having it too?"

"Everyone is, even Safana."

"Freaky. Any ideas on what to do when we reach shore?"

"Well, I guess we see Mendas. "

Kivan stalked over, eyes roving and wide.

"I can't stand it."

"What?"

"I can't stand it. being on this boat. Elves were not made for seafaring. We need..."

"Woods? Been dreaming about them?"

"How did you know?"

"Everyone has. It's freaky. I'm starting to rethink leaving that island. I mean, Sarevok's dead. We could have lived there, no problems, assassins..."

"We have only killed two..."

"Three, if we count that strange woman who wanted to kill you."

"True."

I sighed, leaning on the rails. It was so close. I could feel it- I could be free. Rabbit away on the high seas, like I always dreamed of with the _Merry Ellen Carter_. Hell, we had taken to calling this ship the _Sea Wolf_. I heard a few melancholy notes drift from a guitar after.

_"Here's to you, I sing for my daddy-o.."_

The experience was getting to everyone. The catacombs, the piled bodies of old men, of Fuller and a half-dozen of my old friends...nightmare apparitions made the wolfwere island seem positively quaint. We had left more than a few of them alone, happy enough. It was tempting to try and grab the wheel from Minsc, turn us around and head back there...hunt with the others...

_"As I lay him down, down to sleep..."_

But Gorion raised me better, and Lathander expected me more, divinity tugging at my consciousness. The Blood wanted to give into animalism, into the power that the curse game. I'd be a butcher. I think it was Eldoth singing softly, to himself. He might be an arrogant, manipulative, womanizing bastard, but he's more than that too. Skie curled up to him, arms around his wait. I missed Branwen more than ever.

_"It's been so long, since I lost my daddy-o..."_

Three months? No, closer to four. And running would never solve anything. Sarevok might be dead, but people still needed help. My friends, first and foremost. Kivan was still a lost soul. Quayle needed to...retire, I guess. I had yet to convince him that he was getting too old for this business. Skie needed to be steered away from Eldoth. Viconia needed someone to look over her- I mean, she's a Drow, walking on the Sword Coast. she's liable to get herself hung like that.

_"Hope he's watchin'... watchin' over me..."_

People needed checking up on. I made a mental note to visit Farmer Brun, maybe help him with his harvest. Maybe help Ajantis back south, to visit his mentor. Yes, south. People needed help in Cormyr as much as they did along the Lion's Way. I'd check in on everyone I've seen, make sure they're alright. Well, at least once I got past this lycanthropy thing.

I sighed again, watching the clouds sunder before the sun. Yes, I saw it- Lathander would show the way. I just had to be patient, and lend a hand where it's needed.


	12. Chapter 12

I was drunk. Really drunk. It took the edge off, I suppose. I got a bit heavy-handed after Candlekeep, seeing the bodies of my childhood friends thrown carelessly onto a pile in the catacombs. Poor Shistal. I don't remember much else, besides his staring eyes...the bloat of his body...

Needless to say, I was ordering beer after beer in Feldpost's. I asked Minsc about his tattoos, and one thing led to another, and well...

I woke up on the floor, groggy. My shoulder was aching, and there was a little blood on the floor. I checked my wounds - and there were always some- but nothing was bleeding. I looked down and gasped. Several of my companions heard me, and sprung awake immediately, daggers and knives in hand.

I poked at the new addition to my body. It was about the size of my fist, bright purple and rather well done, if a little simplistic. It wasn't bad looking at all, actually. It was just a surprise to see the symbol in my flesh. I rubbed at it. It didn't come out. I rubbed harder. Jaheira snickered and sauntered back to her bed. Khalid snored.

I had a tattoo.

Later, I asked Minsc about what it meant. He looked at it, squinted. Poking Boo over it, he shrugged.

"It is your motto."

"I have a motto?"

Boo squeaked.

"Boo says not motto, credo. It means 'give all you have to give'."

I listened, nodded. Not bad, I guess. Not a bad credo. Branwen nodded, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder as I stripped off my shield.

"Minsc did well. You indeed do give everything you have, everything you are to the needy, to your friends."

She gave me a peck on the cheek, blushed. I heard her murmur as she walked away, pulling off her helm.

"Tempus watch over you like you have watched over us."

**A/N:** Yeah, sorry, got held up. Well, the bad news: I'm now property of the Queen. The papers are signed, and I'm a private in the Royal Canadian Regiment as of yesterday. I leave for Basic around month's end. I'll try to put up a few more pieces before I go.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Brief interlude. Mid BG2. SO, yeah, I'm back from Basic for a bit. I'll try to post when I can. Inspired by some of the things I saw, as you can tell.

"Ohh...I am so very tired, and my hurt so very much. Could we...could we please stop and rest for the night? Please?"

I sighed. Aerie had tear tracks running down her face. She had grabbed my shoulder halfway between Umar Hills and the De'Arnise keep. I looked at the others- Minsc, arm in a sling. Jaheira, sweating buckets. Nalia, finishing her canteen. Viconia, features hidden but sweating through her cloak. The instant I stopped, my legs started to cramp up. I looked at everyone. We still had a few miles left in us, I figured.

"Can't hold out a few more miles? We still have some sunlight."

"No...please. My feet, they hurt so much."

"Lathander...alright."

I heaved my rucksack off my back, started working my shoulders in circles. Aerie went limp, fell where she was.

"Alright, everyone, set up camp. Minsc, can you get a fire going? Thanks."

He nodded, frowning a little bit. Jaheira dropped her own pack, walked over.

"Why did you stop? We could have kept going."

"Yeah, but if something happened in the next few miles, Aerie can barely stand."

"Another point, fearless leader: why did you even choose to bring her with us? I doubt that a wilting flower is exactly what we need to rescue Imoen."

She grabbed me by the collar, turned me towards her. Her green eyes were blazing, jaw set despite the quiet of her voice. I turned to face her.

"Remember how in shape I was when you first hauled me off my ass?"

She flushed a little.

"That was different!"

"How? We're helping out Aerie because it's the right thing to do. You give all you have to give for good people, that's it. Or at least I do. Aerie is one of us, now."

Jaheira snorted.

"Not yet, she isn't. You have a soft spot for her."

"No more than you have for me, Jaheira. My call, my decision. She's a newbie, but weren't we all sometime?"

Jaheira turned away from me. She didn't want to argue. I heard a sob. I wheeled in place, trying to shrug the pain the straps had left in my shoulders out still. Aerie sat on the ground, trying to pull off her comfortable, flimsy sandals...or whatever was left of them. Long strips of skin hung off her feet. She bit down on a whimper, and my heart tore.

"Lathander's...c'mere."

I took out my knife and started cutting away the wreckage.

"Lathander, why didn't you speak up sooner?"

"I...I didn't want to seem weak."

"Gods damn it, woman. You're not going to be able to keep up with a bunch of experienced adventurers on your first time out, and you've got nothing to prove. This might hurt some."

She winced as I popped a blister, started cleaning the dirt and blood off of her.

"Alright, we need some new shoes for you. I've got some spare boots that won't fit, but I don't have any other ideas. Ask Nalia, maybe she has some. And next time, speak up before it gets to this point. We're going to be going real slow for the next few days now."

She nodded tearfully. She looked like she was ready to break down and go home.

"Listen, we're not mad at you. Just a little frustrated, you know? You got hurt, and that's your own fault. But you're one of us now. So it doesn't matter."

"Bu...but..."

"Ask Jaheira about the Nashkel mines sometime. Anyways, you're one of us, and that's all that matters. We'll get you back on your feet in no time. You look out for everyone, and everyone looks out for you."

She just stared at me, then went real quiet. I bandaged her other foot, did my best with it and she stared into the fire. She learned the lesson quicker than I did.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Ironically enough, I can't sleep tonight either. Short, I know. I'll try to get one more up before I head back.

I lay awake, sore for some reason. Well...crap.

I don't know why. My eyes wouldn't open, so I couldn't even stare at the stars. Every muscle in my body protested the slightest movement, so I just lay there on my back, thinking. I couldn't do anything else. thoughts, scenarios kept running through my mind. How in the hell were we going to get into the Gate? Just walk by? I ran through a bunch of conversations with the Flaming Fist, none of which ended well. I licked my lips, and called out to my pillar.

"Jaheira, what in the hell are we doing?"

"Mmmph? Sleep."

"Can't."

A squeak cut just about the sound of the fire.

"Boo must rest."

"So much go...where's my happy dream?"

"Seriously. What in the hell are we doing? What's the plan for getting in the Gate?"

There was a short pause, punctuated by snoring, presumably Minsc's.

"_Abbil_, quiet down. Our concern is more for your safety at the moment."

"Really, Viconia?"

Silence. I don't know if she just passed out or didn't feel like answering.

"Have faith," called out Yeslick with a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Har."

"No use lying awake and worrying. One way or another, we'll be sorted out when we get there."

"I don't know."

"You don't. So, pray to your god. See what he has to say. You really need to let go, and let the gods and us sort things out."

"I guess. Just don't want to see anyone hurt."

"Tiax will set you on fire as you sleep if you continue your prattle!"

I grumbled to myself, rolled over in my sack. I knew the old dwarf was right. I just had to let go of everything. Still, thoughts tumbled through my head. Letting down the group, letting down the Dukes. Being unable to prevent the war. Others like Brun and Winthrop suffering. Suffering, that's what I'm here to prevent. Yeah, I told myself. Do right. My mind was slightly more at ease, but not by much.

But I still didn't sleep easy. It took hours of lying still, trying to concentrate on nothing, force out the thoughts of failure before I passed out, bone tired.


	15. Chapter 15

**No Rest**

**A/N:** The muse came to me, late at night. Damn muse. Hope this turned out okay, because it's half past four local when I started writing this. Tip of the hat to my brother browncoats.

I was ready to sleep, to be all honest. A long day or two of moving bodies, cleaning rubble had left me exhausted. I lay my head on a pillow softer than anything I've ever felt, closed my eyes, and heard it.

A chest-heaving, runny-nosed, honest to Lathander sob.

I could hear the sobs through the open door. I rolled over, tried to ignore them...but I couldn't. So I got up. I ducked the kit on the floor, made my way past the sleeping forms of my friends. I looked down the corridor- the candlelight was still there. Aerie was still at it, copying, transcribing spells to make herself a stronger mage. Alright. Strangely, the sobs weren't coming from that direction. So, I turned. I followed the hall until I got to Nalia's room. The door was open, so I knocked a bit. Being polite.

"Go away, Aunty!"

"I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

"Oh, it's you, Dawnbringer," she managed between sniffles,"how can I help?"

"Help? I heard you crying. Can I help you?"

"No...no. I apologize, Dawnbringer."

"Don't. Hell, I lost my father too, in pretty similar straights."

"Are you not the spawn of a god?"

"Not that father...Gorion bought the farm defending me from Sarevok."

"Oh, I didn't know...my apologies."

"I don't really dwell on it. I know you lost your father. I was wondering if there was anything you wanted to talk about."

"Well, I don't know what to do. I've lost everything."

I cocked an eyebrow. She gestured at me to sit, and I pulled her desk chair up near her bed.

"What about your castle? You're still ahead of most people on castles. And riches, servants, land..."

Yeah, pretty inappropriate. Well, I didn't know any better. I inherited some of Jaheira's scathing wit, I guess. I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, but Nalia seemed okay, even gave me a wry smile.

"Well, there's no one to run the castle or land, and the treasury's been looted. What am I to do? That's not even important. Aside from Aunty, I've lost my family."

"When you can't run, you crawl. When you can't do that...well, you ask your friends for help."

"What? Oh...well, good sir, as of now, I have few friends in Council, and no doubt the Roenalls are attempting to poison them against me as we speak."

"Ah..."

"And Aunty isn't helping. Traditionally, we would place the keep under stewardship, but who..."

This was going to end poorly.

"Nalia, I never knew anyone but Gorion. I know what you-"

"Would you do it, please? Please, Dawnbringer, don't let the Roenalls take what's left of my family away from me!"

He clutched onto me, tears and snot soaking into my shirt. Great. I put my arms around her shoulders in a gesture of what I hoped was brotherly affection.

"Alright, I guess I'll do it. Anyways, long day tomorrow. Get some shuteye, okay?"

"Of course. Thank you for everything."

She gave me a peck on the cheek, and I stood to leave. I shook my head as soon as I was in the hallway, pinching the bridge of my nose and trying to stem the incoming headache.

And I ran right into Jaheira, who had been standing right outside the door, probably eavesdropping.

We both started cursing quietly, nursing our various hurts. She starred at me out of the corner of her eye.

"You help everyone, whelp, but yourself."

"You're one to speak, Jaheira. What was I supposed to do?"

She squirmed a little, fidgeting.

"I..I do not know. I would prefer that you...never mind."

I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, I'm up. Might as well take advantage of me now. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Just...dreams. I'll be fine...I simply wish to remind you to take care of yourself before you take care of others."

"Thanks, Jaheira. I get freaky dreams a lot too, you know."

She nodded, continued off down a hall on some midnight errand. She stopped, turned around as is to speak at one point, shook her head again and kept going. I watched her go. Nalia's head came out the doorway.

"Notice how she keeps touching the locket you gave her?"

I hadn't.

"Nalia, go to sleep."

"Fine, fine. Just trying to repay a favor."

"Don't worry about it, there's plenty to go around, " I mumbled, trudging off. Aerie's candlelight continued to flicker up ahead. _As long as I'm up_, I thought to myself, _I might as well check on her, too. _

Of course, she was passed out, snoring, quill still in hand. I shook my head. I took it out of her grasp, stared at the pool of gold that was her hair. I stroked the back of her head, and hefted her to her feet. She came to.

"Whmmm?"

"You fell asleep. Good indication to get to bed, Aerie."

"Oh. Oh. Of course. I-I...thanks."

"No worries."

She held me, tentatively, as I walked her to her bed and bid her goodnight. Hell, I tucked her in without even waking Imoen or Minsc. Jaheira was sitting on her bed as I passed her room on the way back.

"Night, Jaheira."

"Sleep well, whelp."

A crooked smile goodnight, and I sauntered back to bed. That smile, and knowing my friends would at least get a night's sleep if nothing else was good enough for me. No rest for the righteous.


	16. Chapter 16

I suppose I've always had a fixation with angels, so when I came to and described Aerie as the one 'in amber clad', it didn't go over so great. She was pretty confused and blushed something fierce. I suppose it was spending my youth in a monastery. At any rate, coming to beneath the asylum was not what I had in mind. However, being awakened by Aerie was a pleasant event leading into an enormous kick in the balls.

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire, eh?" Jaheira muttered, rubbing the side of her head as she sat up. We were still armed and armored, for some reason. For a diabolical archmage hellbent on unspeakable evil, Irenicus was making rookie mistakes. I forced my eyes open. Everyone but the damned traitor was accounted for, even lil' sis. All things considered, it wasn't going so bad. Well, I knew there had to be some sort of terrible catch.

Bohdi cackled for some reason, hanging like a demented spider off a ledge. Well, she was a crazed vampire, I suppose.

"So, here we are, little mousies."

"Uhh...yes. What do you want?"

I won't lie to you. We were in rough shape, me especially. I leant on Aerie, felt her willow-strength suffuse me with...standing, among other things. Strength, when I felt like everyone ounce of me had been drained out.

"Why, fun! My brother already has what he wants from you."

"My stuff?"

"Your soul, fool!"

"Oh. That. I kinda need that, you know."

"Not any more, walking corpse. You will DIE, slowly and painfully. I'm going to make sure of it. I'll even make a wager with you...if you can make it to the end of this maze, I'll make it quick."

"I hope you die in a fire."

"I'll even be generous with you, prey. I'll give you an hour to try and escape. See you soon, mousie!"

And, like that, she was gone from her perch. I frowned.

"Well, crap."

Everyone looked at me.

"Well, let's go. No point in hanging around."

I took ten steps, probably, before it slammed into me. I can't describe it. I just...died on my feet, for just a second. I was on my back, gasping for breath like a fish out of water before I knew what was going on, muscles spasming wildly. There were general cries of alarm.

"Raven!"

"Oh, Baervan!"

"Pork chop sandwiches!"

Aerie held me as the tremors eased, lying on top of me as if trying to shield me from a hidden marksman. Yeah, kinda awkward.

"Get off of him," grumbled Jaheira, "he needs room."

I rolled onto my side, struggling for breath.

"Ow."

"What the hell was that, whelp?"

"I don't have a clue, but it hurt a lot. Let's go, I've got a soul to get back."

I didn't notice, but 'Dalis told me later that Aerie stood there, tears streaming down her face and head down as Jaheira and Viconia helped me to my feet. She couldn't quite get things right yet, but she was learning. Angels fall first, Viconia told me once. But that's what makes them special, right? Giving all they have to give. I stumbled and struggled to my feet as she watched. She was always there to try to catch me.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** I thought the dwarven slaves episode in Sendai's lair was powerful weak...so my version. Yeah, it sucks, I'm sorry. It's located just before the corresponding chapter in Bar Talk in my mind.

"Well, there certainly is an acre of you."

Even Jaheira watched in open-mouthed amazement as the drow poured into the cavern from secret crevices, blade blades glistening with what I hoped was just dew.

"You are the great Darthirr that the mistress wants slaughtered, hmm?" the captain called out to me, his armor particularly spiky. He looked pretty menacing, I'll admit. I felt Imoen stir beside me. I just stood there, just like I had before.

"Lathander, I'm tired of this. Alright, let's hear it."

I carefully adjusted my helmet, brushing dust and dried blood out of the tall horsehair crest.

"You have not faced our wrath before, surfacer! You cannot comprehend our might!"

"Well, I suppose you know Ust Natha, right? That was us."

He turned a strange shade of purple at the mention of the city that we left aflame. We had to fight our way from one end to the other to make our escape. Fireballs and lightning bolts sundered buildings, and we left about a hundred or so dead drow to guard their dead mistresses.

"YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE! Strike them down!"

I didn't like drow. I didn't like long speeches. And there were enough people who had tried to kill me that I just didn't care very much anymore. I hefted my shield, and watched the captain take a step back into the crowd as Imoen's carefully aimed shot slammed into the head of the drow to the left of him. It was finally on.

My father's blood sung in my veins that day. I don't so much remember the battle as watched it happen. I started charging forwards, prayers on my lips. A pillar of flame fell from above, in the middle of the crowd somewhere. Sarevok and Minsc managed to get ahead of me, massive blades whirling as they cleaved drow in two. Valygar impaled three with ease as I slammed into their ranks.

I was getting a little tubby, alright?

The first drow I encountered was trying to reload his crossbow. I knocked his head clean off his shoulders with the Flail of Ages before shield-smashing another dark elf with a crossbow. The crunching sound of my shield striking unprotected cranial bone exalted Bhaal's blood, and I lost it. Power surged through my limbs. One dark elf managed to disarm me, but it didn't seem to matter. I reached out, and in a flash, grabbed him by the chest plate and headbutted him. I stomped on the neck of a wounded and dying drow, and keep going.

BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG

"This cannot be!" the same drow captain exclaimed, dismayed as we pressed him back against the entrance to Sendai's lair. I was getting complacent. I opened my mouth for a snappy remark.

"Yeah I getAAAAARG! Oh, ow! Sweet holy mother of the Abyss that hurts!"

I had a crossbow bolt sticking out from my side because I wasn't paying attention. Stupid. And I was going to offer him a surrender. The others rushed the half dozen dark elves, Viconia and Jaheira at their head. I sort of slumped to my knees, prodded the wound. It looked a lot worse than it was. By the time it was over, I had already kicked in the doors to Sendai's sanctum and was calling for her blood in the name of the Dawnbringer.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Based fairly vaguely on a Stan Rogers song. Maybe I'm back in the game after all. Again, another tip of the hat to Firefly, because I am a helpless fanboy.

_It's a damn tough life full of toil and strife_

_We adventurers understand_

_And we don't give a damn how long the fight may be_

_'Cause we're homeward bound from the battleground_

_With a good crew proud and free_

_And he won't give a damn when he drinks with the girls of ol' Trademeet!_

The minstrel wasn't half bad, truth be told. We were in some podunk town, listening as he regaled us with yet another song. Yes, we were all a little drunk. But we were relaxing, or trying to. Viconia, Minsc, Yeslick and I sat at one table, tankards brimming. Well, except Viconia, who had wine. I was happy- Imoen was back, at any rate. Jaheira and Aerie eyed me- one with desperate longing, one with feigned disinterest. The minstrel continued.

_On the Sun God's Light he trode!_

_Oh, the foes he mauled, the evils slains!_

_On his blood red roan he rode, the druids lowly lain..._

This was beginning to sound dreadfully familiar. In the span of two weeks, I was already immortalized in song. Jaheira nudged me from behind, eyes furiously bright and dancing.

"You have a horse, oh hero? Why didn't you speak up, I've been walking everywhere!"

A big laugh all around. Everyone was paying attention to this half-baked bard now, clapping along and singing. Apparently, it was a popular song thereabouts. It listed at length my exploits, equal time devoted to slaying things as to my sexual prowess and the adoration of women, especially those of Trademeet.

_Even now their big brown eyes look out_

_Hoping one fine day to see_

_His long green cloak blowing in the wind_

_Riding back to ol' Trademeet!_

Absolutely atrocious, but what could I say? I didn't think I should embarrass the guy. He had a decent enough voice, after all. Details were all wrong. The only thing they got right was the color of my cloak. I rolled my eyes, took a long draw on my beer. The minstrel finished his ballad, and leaned in conspiratorially towards the crowd.

"Fine patrons, the hero of Trademeet still wanders the land, and is even rumored to be headed in this direction."

There was a murmur as caravan guards and peasants looked at one another, amazed.

"Why would he come here?"

"I'm a minstrel, not a seer. Perhaps he passes through on his way to Saradush, or to slay the fearsome beasts in the Windspear Hills. "

More murmurs. I shook my head, finished my beer. Here we were, a dozen people in the back of the bar. we were wearing our clothes instead of armor, yes, but how they failed to notice the heavily scarred elf, or the tattooed man-mountain is beyond me. Lathander. Viconia was laughing her ass off at this point, and so was everyone else. She grabbed me by the hand and dragged me towards the bard with wicked intent. Holding onto my hand, she smiled from behind her cloak.

"What does he look like?" she asked.

"Have you not seen a hero before?"

No, clearly not. I gritted my teeth, kept silent.

"Why, the Hero of Trademeet is a handsome elf..."

Thank you.

"...seven feet tall..."

I'm tall for an elf, but not that tall. I've never even heard of a seven-foot elf.

"...with flaming red hair and eyes as green as his forest home."

I don't even know where to begin with what's wrong with that.

"He is blessed with a corona of light, a gift from Lathander himself..."

News to me.

"...and a charger loyal only to him."

Viconia stared at me, the entire time, as the minstrel went on. His hands flew as he described a me I didn't know. Finally, Viconia interrupted him.

"Introduce yourself, _ussta mrannd'ssinss_."

"Naw, Viconia..."

"_Jaluk_!"

"Fine. I'm the hero."

The bard looked at me cockeyed.

"I'm the Hero of Trademeet, slayer of Sarevok the Usurper."

"Bullshit!" he exclaimed.

I shrugged.

"Any particular way I can prove this to you? A particular scar..."

"Foolish _rivvin_!"

"Easy, Viconia..."

His mouth gaped.

"Viconia?" he murmured incredulously. Minsc was approaching from behind. Keldorn appeared by my side with alarming speed.

"Is there a problem here?"

The minstrel looked up at the huge, scarred old man, the cloaked figure to my left, and the not-so-huge scarred me. He shrunk on his stool.

"No, no sir."

"Not a word, understood?"

"Understood."

Of course, by the time I got back to my table, we were being mobbed. A small horde surrounded Minsc, beers raised.

"TO MINSC!"

He looked around blankly for a second.

"TO ME!"

I had to laugh, and so did everyone else. Easing up, I sat down and tried to ignore Aerie's glare. Well, we tried. Time to get drunk. I spent the night letting whoever walk up to me, and sit down for a few words. We were so hung over we had to spend an extra day recuperating from our revelry before we could continue.


	19. Chapter 19

"Jaheira, I don't like this."

"You don't have to."

She was stripping off plates of armor, preparing. Mentally, at any rate. The challenge for leadership of the Grove involved ritual combat. No armor, no weapons except the two staffs down in the pit where Faldorn, my one-time ally, was warming up to kill Jaheira. I looked at the wizened Great Druid, and his posse of lesser druids.

"There has to be some other way."

"There is none," the old man intoned, "save this."

I looked them all down, then back to Jaheira.

"If she dies, I'll butcher each and every one of you."

I was a little worked up, I guess. I had the reputation to back my words up, and they knew it. I grumbled to myself, leaned on the rim of the pit that served as the arena. I wouldn't have minded fielding the challenge, but that's me. I don't mind putting myself in harm's way. But her? What would I do without Jaheira?

Aerie rubbed at my shoulders.

"She'll…she'll be fine."

"I know. I'm worried. Hey, can you blame me?"

"N-n-no, but…"

"But what?"

"Now you know how we feel."

I guess I did. I was always getting into single combat, putting my neck out there. I started to get a feeling for why they were so worked up when I tried to take on anything and everything. I didn't like it at all. The two women below circled warily, sizing each other up. Faldorn had the vicious, wolverine ferocity, the bestial rage on her face. Jaheira was expressionless.

"Begin!"

Faldorn began casting a spell, and Jaheira went straight for a staff, sweeping her foe off her feet before she could use the pent up magical energy. Faldorn screamed mindlessly, and took up her own staff. We yelled and howled like maniacs, cheering Jaheira with every blow landed and shouting advice. The druids remained silent all the while as the contest continued. It was savage, blows to feet and midsections and faces until Jaheira emerged, bloody and broken. Faldorn was not moving.

"She…?"

Jaheira nodded, slumping against her staff. Her face was already starting to swell up, and she clutched broken ribs. I set to work on her, healing as best I could with Lathander's light, and bandages and splints where that was not enough. I glared at the Druids, and I knew how she had felt a hundred dozen times before.


	20. A Long Day

A/N: Occurs after Bar Talk. If you haven't read that...well, why the hell not?

"Bring the bottle," I said. The waitress took one look at me, and nodded. Bjorrin didn't say a word... but he was always quiet. Now Minsc? Minsc didn't say a word, either. He waited patiently, pulling off plates of armor as he sat with us. Jaheira just...I don't want to talk about it, okay? Kivan came back with a round of ale for us. He nodded and rasped at me. I was already trying to forget.

"Tell me what happened."

**BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BGBG BG**

Every now and again...say once every two or three months, the law around here asks for my help. They know me, I've helped them before. It's what I do, I guess. Help folk, Lathander willing. Well, there had been reports of slave traders heading north about four miles east of Beregost. Figured that we should give them a proper welcome, the shy boys. Bjorrin rounds me up, right? Jaheira's off on...business. Minsc is visiting, agrees to tag along. Everyone hates slavers, especially us. So, we track them all day, till twilight.

The trail ends at an abandoned farmstead. Whole family got et by ankhegs two years ago, right? Well, we see the caravan parked outside, along with a few armed guards just kicking it outside. There must have been fifteen, twenty of them outside, more inside. So, I did what I normally do- I stepped out into the fading light, old helmet on my head. There's only one like it, as I recall- huge tusks, tall horsehair crest, engraving by Taerom. You can't miss it.

"Guess this about when I tell you that you should throw down your weapons, boys," I say to them. They can't NOT know who I am. Scarred elf, helm, legendary flail...well, they sneer anyways. They tell me I'm gonna die, even when Bjorrin and Minsc step out of the woods. I warn them again, tell them to surrender.

If my helm hadn't been enchanted to all to hell, that crossbow bolt would have killed me, seriously. As it was, I got a mean knock on the head, and that pissed me off. Killing the first few sent the rest scurrying for their masters in the barn. We kicked the door in, roaring a bloody challenge. There they were, all intermixed with the slaves, who were trying to rise up. We were getting ready to kick some ass, when She came literally through the wall. An orb of solid energy smashed through the wall sending shards of wood all over. She floated through, blonde hair whipping around her head and yellow robes fluttering.

Aerie.

She lashed out with a cone of flame, imolating several guards. Another one was sent flying through the air with her hammer. I didn't think she was that strong... but yeah. So the three of us more or less watched her kill five men in a few minutes, slack jawed with amazement. Men began throwing down their weapons, surrendering. She killed one before I yelled at the top of my lungs for her to stop. She whipped around, lightening dancing at her fingertips. I think she just barely stopped herself. Those baby blues widened, and I got a good look at her.

Aerie hadn't had an easy life before I met her, and it looked she had gotten more of the same after we had parted ways. Her tattoos were etched with fine white lines- more scars. A bloody rag was tied around her forearm. One of her eyes looked like it had been blackened lately.

"Aerie..."

She teared up, raised her hammer to strike down another groveling slaver.

"Stop! For the love of Lathander, Aerie, STOP!"

She slowly lowered her hammer, still glowing with blue light. She turned to me, sniffled a little.

"It's g-g-good to see you again."

**BGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBG**

We ended up taking the survivors of our raid back to Beregost, turned in the slavers. The free slaves themselves spread out, trying to make their ways home as best they could with the proceeds confiscated from the slavers' caravan. We ended up going to the Burning Wizard for a pint, and Aerie caught up to us there. I was a little perturbed by her viciousness. It was different from the girl I had fought beside. I had watched her murder an unarmed man, which made me deeply uncomfortable- though, the punishment for slaving in these parts is hanging. Thoughts like that were bouncing around inside of my head, so I barely heard her walk up behind me. She touched me lightly on the shoulder, and I started a little. I turned around, and smiled broadly at her. Her smile had changed, too- it wasn't the broad, excited smile I had seen before. She clambered onto the barstool next to mine.

"Well, Aerie...I see you've done well for yourself. I got your note."

She nodded, ordered a glass of wine.

"Remember the time we all got drunk off that wineskin you smuggled with you?"

She smirked- it was a fond memory. Our first kiss, I think. She fiddled with the stem of her glass, not saying much.

"So...what have you been doing with yourself?"

"I hunt slavers."

"Your stutter is gone."

"I lost it not long after I lost you. I wandered around, trying to do right, trying to bring light and happiness back into people's lives. But, no matter how hard I tried, n-nothing ever seemed to stay fixed. No matter how many criminals I brought to the courts, no m-matter how many ogres I'd slay, there'd always be more. They'd always be rich, and...and they got that way by slaving. I watched them turn free slavers over and over again. I saw so much suffering..."

I reached out, rubbed her shoulder.

"Can't let that get you down, Aerie. You can't just...let go of justice. After awhile, it just becomes revenge."

"And you c-can't...you can't get justice with the courts."

She nodded, smirked to herself, throwing her golden tresses behind her.

"So, what have you been up to?"

"Well, I...uh, well, I'm helping out at the temple, helping keep the law. I'm a city sheriff, too."

She nodded absently to herself.

"How do you stay so happy? No matter how many slavers I bring down, how many I kill, there's always more. How do you keep your hope with so much suffering?"

"Faith, Aerie. Like I had...have in you."

She laughed bitterly.

"We did so much together, helped so many people. Where did I g-go wrong?"

I shrugged, said nothing. She rested her head on my shoulder, and started crying.

The next morning, I held her hand through the trials. I held her hand as all the slavers were sentenced to hang, and she held my hand as I carried out the sentence. There's a drawing of us somewhere in town, two adventurers with haunted expressions. You can see the boots of the last slaver on the edge of it. She kissed me once of the cheek before she left.

"I still love you, you know," she told me quietly, facing me and holding both my hands as I walked her to the edge of town. I nodded.

"It's kept me going through things...all kinds of things. You brought out the best in... in m-me. I'm sorry things had to end up this way."

"There's more to living than being alive, Aerie."

She stared at me, expecting something more. I just watched, and she nodded, and gave me that smirk that looked so out of place on her face. So bitter, so cynical. Such a change from the naive girl I knew five years ago. She started walking south without another word.

**BGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBG**

"So," rasped Kivan, "where is she now?"

"I have no clue. But I let a murderer go free. I hung twenty men. I broke a girl's heart in two for a second time, a girl who's been nothing but loving and faithful and loyal to me. A girl who's seen me through Hell in a literal sense."

He gave his own smirk, painfully like hers.

"It's been a long day, my friend," he rasped quietly, and ordered another round of drinks. I just shook my head and finished my drink. How had things gone so wrong?


	21. The Wineskin

**A/N:** The song I keep imagining being played by 'Dalis and Jan is actually 'Round the House and Mind the Dresser'. Enjoy, tell me what you think. And yes, this is a continuation of the previous chapter.

We were drunker than sin. Kivan nodded and smiled as we all sort of made small talk, till the bar was empty of everyone except us. The innkeep scowled at me, but went to bed anyways. He knew me and my group. So it was Minsc, Kivan and I left. Oh, and Bjorrin. I was smiling, remembering old times. Minsc was talking to Bjorrin at length about...something. I forget what. Kivan was telling the story of the time we had to rescue the girl in the lighthouse. Well, not quite telling it. He kept reminding me of the little things.

"Remember how bad my arm swelled up after the worg bit it?" he'd say, and I'd laugh. He had been bitten, badly, on the forearm. But we had saved the girl. That night, he couldn't even move his fingers his arm was so swollen. The infection was just awful. But he didn't say a thing, just cleaned it every hour. Quayle and I looked after him. It was better by the time the ghasts attacked that one night, but it still hurt him. He did good, though. I shook my head and smiled at the memory.

"Tell me about the wineskin," he rasped to me.

The wineskin. A good memory, that.

**BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG **

We were between the Umar Hills and Nalia's keep. It had been a long, hot day, and nothing had happened. We had pacified the slavers, we had leveled the bandits...so as the sun was setting, we pitched camp. I went to collect firewood, and by the time I got back, everyone was laughing. The stew was boiling, the loaf of bread was making its way around the small circle we had. Everyone was smiling. It had been a rough fight in the temple, and we were glad to put some miles between us and it.

Aerie was looking suspicious, eyes darting as everyone talked...but keeping quiet herself. She wasn't making eyes at me, which was strange. Jaheira and Mazzy were talking, Valygar and Jan were cleaning their weapons. I think it was damn near the only time Jan was quiet...when he cleaned his damn weapon. So, it was shaping up to be a pretty good night. I plunked myself down, dropped the wood beside me, and just watched. Dalis was just sort of making music, random wandering tunes. I don't remember why, but I said "I'd kill for a drink right now."

And Aerie giggled. Loudly.

We all turned to her, and in her hand was a wineskin. She giggled again.

"I...I picked this up f-f-for everyone. A c-celebration."

"What for, Aerie?" I asked.

"Well, we did r-r-right, didn't we? We stopped the k-killings."

I nodded. Jaheira's eyes narrowed.

"Have you ever had a drink before, Aerie?" she said, keeping her tone even. Aerie shook her head, blushing. Her golden locks flew everywhere. I grinned.

"Better hand that over here, then!" I snapped, and stood up, reaching. She squealed, and with a wild light in her eyes, she darted off into the woods. Everyone stood still a second, before Valygar commented.

"Uh, guys? She's gonna drink all the wine if no one stops her."

And in a heartbeat, we all tore off into the woods in pursuit, except for 'Dalis and Jan. Jan just shook his head, and 'Dalis took up his instruments, laughing.

"Run, my dove," he called out, "Get your well earned reward!"

He tossed Jan a bodhran drum, and Jan kept a quick beat as 'Dalis started on his pipe. I heard it in the background as we all tore after her, laughing. She was drinking as she ran, spilling the rich red wine down her front, laughing up a mouthful or two. Jaheira snatched it from her after a few seconds, but barely got it to her lips before Valygar bodychecked her out from under it. I tackled him to the ground about a heartbeat later, grabbing it for myself. I got up...and Mazzy tripped me right back down to the ground. I shook the cobwebs out from the fall, and saw her taking off on a tangent, laughing and drinking as music filled the air. Jaheira jumped over my prone body, chuckling.

"You must be faster on your feet, whelp!"

I cursed and started sprinting. I shoved Jaheira down with a yelp, dodged Valygar's attempt to take me down and jumped Mazzy. I fell to the ground again, and grabbed a gulp of the wine. It was sweet...very sweet. It was good and cheap and strong, and as I stumbled up again, Aerie grabbed it from me, and finished it. She rocked on her feet, and smiled before throwing it to Valygar. He grinned, trying to get a few drops out of it. We all got back to the fire, arms slung around one another and sweating like crazy. Just before we got to the edge of the light, Aerie stopped me with a hand on my chest, and threw her arms around my shoulders. Thin arms, strong arms, and pressed her lips to mine. She muffled my yelp of surprise and I tasted wine on her lips, on her tongue. She finished the kiss, and smiled widely. And then, off like a schoolgirl, she went to check on the food. She was happy and hopeful, and I just smiled to myself, rubbed my jawline, and enjoyed the taste of wine and Aerie.

**BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG **

Kivan nodded along, and smiled as best he could. He was wistful, I think, having missed that. Maybe it reminded him of he and his wife. I don't know. I remembered with a smile, and I remembered her haunted expression as the last slaver's neck broke. She didn't enjoy it, but she was all wrapped around her revenge. She wanted me to come riding to the rescue for her again, for things to be like they were before. But then again, who was she? She was harder than the girl I traveled with. She was stronger, more vital...more vicious.

I poured four shots of bourbon, more or less the rest of the bottle. Kivan and I handed out the shots, and I raised mine in a toast.

"Absent friends."

There was a series of grunts in reply, and we took our hit. Looking around, we waved to one another. I started the long walk home through the dark by myself, shaking my head.

I missed Aerie more than I could say.


	22. hope

**A/N:** Takes place about three years after the end of Bar Talk.

Jaheira was laughing. I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist and placing my chin on her shoulder.

"Whatcha got there, babe?"

"Oh, whelp. A courier just delivered it."

It was a book, with my symbol across the cover- a gauntleted fist, with a blue and white backing. The title read "HOPE". Nothing else, except the writer's name. I grabbed it from her. I flipped open the cover, and a letter fell out. I picked it up and read it.

_To the Hero of the Sword Coast...thank you, from all of us. _

_ Petrine._

I handed the note to Jaheira, who stiffened up some. I flipped to a random page, began reading Petrine's flowing script, my mind racing. She couldn't be older than fifteen now. The story she wrote seemed to be somebody's testimony.

"-_fell to pieces. He was my eldest son. I mourned him for weeks. I drank away most of the money I had, brawled every night. The farm started to go, until the Hero showed up. I was going to punch the teeth out of his face, to be honest. Be he stood his ground, and he talked to me. He told me about adventuring, about bringing good to people who needed it. He calmed me down, walked my drunk ass home. I talked to my wife the next day, and she cried when she heard what he said._

_**You were there at the Battle of the Throne?**_

_I was, yes._

_**You were the one Jaheira told to round up volunteers.**_

_It wasn't like there was any shortage of them. Bjorrin helped._

_**Tell me about Jaheira and the notice to move.**_

_She showed up in a flash of light, armor shining. We were all amazed, sitting around for a pint. She was just FURIOUS. She whipped around, and pointed to me. Told me if I wanted to help the Hero, to get to Taerom's with as many volunteers as I could get. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Duncan, Bjorrin. A lot of farmers came along, too. Men who hadn't ever lifted a sword or spear. Young men, maybe younger than you, came along. Taerom handed his finest out to men that retired from farming, young men, all of us. Wished us good luck, shook Jaheira's hand. We marched to Candlekeep, and found a bunch of mages who were getting ready to help him._

_**A lot of people died in that fight.**_

_Yeah, they did. Duncan died. A lot of farmers died, a lot of soldiers and warriors. There was a contingent from the Abbey there, they took some hard losses. _

_**What kept you fighting?**_

_It's not like we could fall back. Watching all that evil, all those evil things by all that power...we couldn't let them have it, no matter how much it cost us._

_**A lot of people around here say you were the bravest of the Beregost forces.**_

_It's not true. I fought the same as anyone else. We were desperate and outclassed, but we did the best we could. We had to stay in the fight. He would have. The Hero kept us going. We could see him in the distance. We were so far out of our league. _

_**How did you manage to keep your sanity?**_

_We knew the Hero was still in the fight. He had saved us from the brink once, he could do it again._"

There were pages and pages of interviews of these sort of stories, stories I didn't know about. I sat down on a bench Valygar had carved, and tried to think.

Hope.

I, of all people, had brought them hope. I, who had stumbled and swore and fought and cursed. In all my bumbling, rambling efforts, I had given people enough hope, changed their life so much, that dozens of them had died on my behalf. Some of them didn't even know me. Hadn't met me. And when Marl had called, they had answered in scores.

What had I done to deserve that sort of devotion? Nothing.

And now there were widows, orphans in my name. It was a lot. But I had given hope. That was something, right?


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Quick one. Occurs late in Baldur's Gate. Action sequence, along with YET ANOTHER Stan Rogers reference!

I was cornered. We were in the Elfsong, trying to grab a quick pint after a long day. I guess I had said something to anger these two, but I still have no clue what. The two drunks had fists clenched and teeth barred. I don't know why I attracted this kind of attention. I was a bear of an elf, and they were dogs of humans, so that put us on about even ground as far as strength went. Their eyes were too far open, their grins too hard and sore- they meant to do more than beat me.

"Guys," I said over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off of the two drunks, slowly backing up towards my friends. I could hear Minsc trying to chat up a barmaid. Jaheira and Imoen laughed at a joke. Khalid stuttering. I was about to have my ass kicked.

"Guys," I said again, this time a little louder. Still nothing.

"We'll teach you, elf."

I roared and threw myself forwards. Garrick would describe the sound as 'like spring thunder', but it sounded hoarse and desperate to me. I decked the closer of the two, feeling an odd crunch as his nose broke. His buddy gave me a solid hit across the jaw, sending me sprawling across a table and seeing stars. I rolled over the table, spilling Minsc's beer and Jaheira's wine across the floor and barely avoiding a hammerfist. I flipped the table at the man, and felt something collide with my back. I went down to the floor, and when I looked up, there was a third man, chair in hand. He raised it above his head, and it was looking pretty grim until Khalid put him into a sleeper hold. In seconds, the man was on the floor.

I stumbled to my feet, back on fire and jaw swelling. My friends squared off at my side, even Imoen and Garrick. The thugs looked at the two-to-one odds, and backed out of the tavern slowly. Once they were gone, Jaheira sat me down.

"Well, your jaw's not broken, thank Silvanus."

I grumbled in response, rubbing my back. Minsc eyed me up, nodding.

"And you've learned to take a punch. Boo approves, drinks all around!"

And then he pounded me on the back.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **I was listening to 'For All of Us' (also known as the John 117 Theme, by Big Science Music) and it just struck me.

Nalia has this drawing of us, all of us. It was drawn the day after we got back from Hell, from beating Irenicus. Most of us are bandaged all to hell, with burns and gashes and bruises. Forearms in slings, that sort of thing. We stayed a night at Nalia's keep, and we feasted. We feasted like there was no tomorrow. Hell, we had survived death! What wasn't there to celebrate? A great many evils laid low, a kingdom saved, good friends reunited.

So, after we were all good and drunk, Nalia brought in an artist, who had us all pose together. We didn't go for the fearsome poses, no. We didn't armor up, we didn't have our swords or maces or bows. We had our everyday clothes on, stood and knelt in two rows. We all looked worse for wear, haggard, beaten, bruised, bloody. None the less, we mostly have smiles. We look content, with arms slung around each other's shoulders, standing or kneeling together. The looks on our faces are so simple to discern: '_These are my brothers and sisters. We have fought and bled and suffered together. If need be, we would die for one another at a moment's notice._' No matter who's face it was on, everyone looked like that. That simple sentiment was filtered through each person's personality: Aerie's innocent joy, Viconia's stiff arrogance, Jaheira's rugged stubbornness. Minsc's strength. Keldorn's experience. Mazzy's loyalty. Yeslick's wisdom. Imoen's intelligence.

Most of us weren't wearing our best, just what was in our packs. We had bandages and slings in clear evidence. It just made the drawing more pointed, I suppose. It said we HAD suffered together. She had it painted after the artist charcoaled us in, and we went back to drinking. I didn't even remember it till I went back about six months after we had laid Melissan low. I just stared at it. Minsc was laughing, his arm around Imoen. I slouched, one arm around Aerie, the other around Jaheira. They had theirs around Coran and Keldorn.

It always brings me back to the good times, seeing that about it, down the generations, that's how I want to be remembered. Happy, with my friends.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Starting a new three-chapter story arc with all our favourite elements. Tell me what you think, do it please ya.

Well, crap.

Nothing good ever comes in the mail. Not a damn thing. We get so much we have our own dedicated courier from Beregost. It's mostly oddball requests, or pleas, or fan mail. I look out for official seals, and so does Jaheira. Well, there was one that day. It was an 'invitation' to do a sermon by the Lady's House in Baldur's Gate, from Chanthalas Ulbright. Not only did it have her stamp, but Duke Belt's. It wasn't so much an invitation as...well, a summons. Come here, talk.

Gee, well, when you put it like that...

I had eight days to prepare. I grumbled to myself, and headed to the locker, and started to clean up my mace. Jaheira came by and sat down beside me, and picked up a piece of her plate, running a rag over it.

"Are we going somewhere, my love?"

"Baldur's Gate. I have a sermon in a week, apparently."

"Says who?"

"Belt, and the Lady's House."

"Great. Another epic public speaking engagement. Here's an idea: instead of polishing up up steel, why don't you write the damn thing?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to write it at the moment. I needed to get my head straight, first. Hell, I didn't even have a topic.

"I'm pretty intent on not dying on the way, Jaheira."

She stood up, kissed me on the head, and took the mace out of my hand.

"Go work, my love."

I sighed, and walked over to my office. It was upstairs, a room where I kept my books and my letters. It had a desk, some parchment, and some quills. I sat down, and thought about everything I had been through, and tried to come up with an idea.

BGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBG

I first noticed the strangeness when we walked through Beregost. People stopped and stared. I mean, yeah, that happens sometimes. But everyone did. There was something in the air...excitement, I think. Trepidation? Anyways. Jaheira and I walked through Beregost, and people kindly stepped aside for us. That was strange. More polite nods and quiet murmurs of 'Dawnbringer' than usual too. But we were most of the way into town when the real strangeness began.

Marl was talking to a merchant, haggling. His eyes opened wide when he saw me, and he balled an enormous, meaty right hand...and he touched it to his left shoulder.

"Strength and honor, Dawnbringer."

That caught me right off guard. I hadn't seen him in awhile, so I returned the gesture somewhat awkwardly.

"Blessings of the Morninglord on you, Marl."

"I can't make it to the sermon this year, I'm afraid."

I nodded, and shook his hand.

"It's alright."

"I have to get this damn...well, you know how it is. Safe travels, Dawnbringer."

Jaheira looked at me. I shrugged helplessly, kept walking. By the fountain, a guardsman saluted me as well, the same salute as Marl's. Right hand to left breast.

"Strength and honor, Dawnbringer."

I had no clue where this was coming from. I looked at Jaheira, raised an eyebrow as best I could. She shrugged as well, and I gave her a playful shove. We kept walking.

BGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBG

I read while we walked, more of Petrine's book. Jaheira didn't say a word, just kept lookout. Sometimes, I called out to her, asking if she remembered something or someone. She would nod, or give out a short answer. Not very conversational, for some reason. I shrugged to myself after awhile, and kept reading.

_"**You lost your brother early on, I hear.**_

_It was the first time I met the Hero, during that expedition. The Hero avenged him, brought his body back. You'd think a thing like that would keep you from adventuring, but I couldn't put it down too long. Before a month had passed, I was fighting bandits and helping the druids in Cloakwood. Sarevok's men left quite a mess. _

_**Do you know what happened after he left Baldur's Gate?**_

_I'm not entirely sure, to be entirely honest. I shook his hand at Wyrm's Crossing that night, but I had been in the cups. Then I started hearing the stories._

_**The stories?**_

_That he was a Son of Murder. I cursed him. He always seemed like a virtuous man to me, and to a lot of people. Something to strive for. But for him to be revealed as an abomination like that? It disheartened me. I worked as a caravan guard awhile, got laid out on the route south to Nashkel. That's when I heard more about him._

_**How long were you in Nashkel?**_

_About a month. My wounds got infected, took awhile to heal. But still, I heard tales of his heroism. Amnian traders swapped tales with me. I told them about what he had done around the Gate, and they told me about the circus. I had a lot of time on my hands, so I thought about it. He's been nothing but good to everyone, so what right did I have to hate him? _

_**Did you know Coran?**_

_Of course. He split off from the Hero's posse after they toppled the Iron Throne. We hunted awhile before he headed south, following our old friend there. I saw him a few times after that, too. I wasn't surprised when him and ol' One Eye came looking for me. _

_**Old One Eye?**_

_That's my nickname for Rill. Slaver plucked out one of his eyes. He followed Coran awhile, then came back to Cloakwood. Said he just couldn't leave it, in the end. Became second of the guys cleaning the place out of wyverns and slavers and stuff. Good guy. _

_**Tell me about what happened with Rill and Coran.**_

_Well, I was out looking for deer, not much luck. I end up at this noble's cabin, which we used as sort of a base for the people trying to make things better, right? I'm sitting down, eating my oatmeal, and suddenly Rill bursts in the door. Everyone looks up - there were a bunch of other people there, too, including Kivan, who I didn't know till after- and Rill looks at who's there. He nods, and just says "Grab your armor. The Hero of Baldur's Gate needs us." _

_**What happened then?**_

_Well, I grabbed my bow and my cloak, shoveled another spoonful of oatmeal in my face, and headed for the door, same as everyone else. I heard the Horn outside, saw Rill with it in his hand. _

_**The Horn?**_

_This big wyvern's horn. Tells everyone to meet at the cabin as fast as possible._

_**And then?**_

_Well, someone handed Rill a battle standard, and there we were. About half an hour later, A mage was there, someone I had never seen before, and she was concentrating on tearing a hole in the world..."_

"Huh," I sort of murmured to myself, trying to remember the name of the person Petrine was interviewing.

"What, beloved?"

"Jaheira, what's the name of the kid who's brother we brought back in Cloakwood?"

"Tiber, I think. The waif wrote of him?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to him, do you think?"

"Lathander only knows."

BGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBG

Jaheira smirked as we circled around the Friendly Arm Inn. I waved politely to the guards.

"Do you not want to rest here, just for old time's sake?" she asked, staring up at the huge stone walls. I thought about it a moment.

"Do we have enough time?"

"Perhaps, you are due to speak the day after tomorrow."

"Alright."

We doubled back to the main entrance, where the guards nodded to me again. Strength and honor, they said to me. I nodded in return, turned to my wife.

"What the hell is with the sudden outbreak of politeness?"

"No idea, whelp. But they seem to be serious about it."

We made small talk over some chicken and mashed potatoes, had a few beers, and went upstairs. Everyone was quiet, giving us the odd stare. Not in a bad way, mind you, but still. We felt uncomfortable. We were taking off our kit for the day, right? I'm stripping off my bracers and Jaheira's taking off her boots, and she says out of nowhere:

"Will you show me what your speech says, whelp?"

She says it in a conversational tone, and that means trouble right off the bat. She's trying to make it sound like nothing's wrong, which means something's bothering her.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Continuation! Song is modified "Bedlam Boys", a traditional ballad. A tip of the hat to Serenity in here, for all us Browncoats.

Well, crap. A fight with the wife is just what I needed.

"Why?" I asked in a cautious tone. Jaheira gave a sigh, tossed a boot to the floor.

"Just curious, my dear."

"Bull."

"I worry."

"About?"

"About the people, it seems they are trying to make a god of a man."

"Not arguing that."

"What do you know about this sermon you are to deliver?"

She had me there. All I knew was that I was to deliver a sermon, sometime, at a place, the day after tomorrow. I was to show up at the Lady's House tomorrow, and...

Well, that's about it.

I nodded, understood her point. I rifled through my backpack, handed her the scroll. She nodded as she read, mouthing the words. I continued disrobing, casting nervous glances at her. It meant a lot to me that she approved. She was wise in her way, if stubborn, but that's why I love her.

"It's good. Needs work, but it'll do. But I still worry about your cult."

I paused a second.

"I have a cult now? "

Jaheira rolled her eyes at me.

"Many, if not all say you are a hero. There is however a number of them devoted to you in ways that would make a hardened Helmite shudder. They ignore your devotion to your god."

"People need heroes, dear."

"No argument, love. But they seek more."

She looked at me with those big green eyes, and I saw her brow crease with worry.

"You also have many enemies. They do not take kindly to you being regarded as nearly a demigod. Hell, even I am not so hot on it."

I smiled, stroked the side of her face with the back of my hand. We kissed, and curled up in the sheets. I had a hard time sleeping, though. She was right. Something was off, and my fan club was kinda weird, too. In the end, I slept fitfully, had a decent breakfast, and left a little later that I would have liked. Jaheira didn't like this one bit, and neither did I, so why was I going out to Baldur's Gate to deliver a sermon to Lathander knows who?

Because the duke said 'please', Gods damn it.

BGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBGBG

We didn't see too many people on the way up. We stopped by Farmer Brun's for lunch, and said our hellos. His farm was doing well, and he had some nephews and nieces helping him. It was good to see him doing so well. We carried on, and after that dose of normality, everything became seriously weird.

It was at the Wyrm's Gate that things got strange. We strolled across the bridge, and there was a bunch of Flaming Fist at the other end. They didn't have a particular admiration for me, more of a grudging respect. None the less, when I stepped within about fifteen feet of them, the guy with a stripe on his shoulder plate drew his sword. I damn near jumped out of my skin.

"Guuaaaaaards! Atten...hut!"

They all snapped to perfect attention, halberds by their sides.

"Guards! Preseeeent....arms!"

In perfect unison, the ten men present lifted their halberds, brought a fist up to the side, and slammed them back down to the ground, bringing their right legs back and forming a 45 degree wedge with their feet while their officer brought his sword up in a salute. I was impressed- these weren't the guys I had dealt with three years ago.

"Thanks...sir."

"Welcome back to Baldur's Gate, sir. May we offer an escort?"

I didn't even know what to say. Why would I need an escort? My mouth was moving, but nothing was being said. Jaheira stepped in.

"Yes, please."

Wow, she even used the word please. Something was definitely up.

"Jensen, Hobart, Mack... wouldja kindly escort the Hero to a respectable inn?"

Three helmeted men broke off and formed up around us. The rest remained locked in the present-arms position. I nodded at the officer.

"Thanks..."

"Lieutenant Tanner."

"Lieutenant. Alright, have a good one."

He saluted again, and I gave one of those weird salutes I had seen in Beregost. We set off into the city proper, and my gut was right- everything was messed up. It seemed a little more crowded than usual. Then I noticed them- simple blue and white streamers hanging from the lightposts. Little chalk graffiti of a mailed fist. Eyes full and staring as we passed. I could hear the whispers. I nudged the young man beside me.

"Uhhh...Jensen?"

"I'm Corporal Hobart, sir."

"Well, corporal, could we get a move on to the Blade and Stars?"

"Oh? I thought you would prefer..."

"No."

"No?"

"I think every other place I've been, I'd gotten into a barfight or someone's tried to kill me there."

He nodded somewhat uncertainly, and glared at the people starting to gather and point.

"Faster corporal."

The man front of our small triangle was starting to tell people to get out of the way, slowing down as people reluctantly moved aside. The whispers in the crowd started growing until it became a low murmur. Then, a voice called out from off to my right.

"The Hero! He's come back to us!"

I thought I was still basically a scoundrel to these people, but as soon as that voice called out...they started cheering. Wildly. The crowd began to advance.

"Faster," said Jaheira urgently,"faster...faster would be better!"

It didn't work. The mass of people crushed in on us about halfway there, and the Flaming Fist troopers had their work cut out for them. They did their best to force people back with their halberds, without putting a sharp bit through someone's brain. People called out wildly, with joy. I hadn't heard that in awhile. Most just cheered, though through the din I did hear things.

"I love you!" called out three or four women, of varying attractiveness, who Jaheira tried to stare to death. One man forced himself past the troopers from behind, grabbing my shoulder. I damn near killed him, I think. My weapon was swinging underhand for his crotch when I saw the face. It was vaguely familiar.

"Sir! Sir, I served with you at the Throne..."

He was pushed back, his words lost in the din. I heard a few people saying I had saved their lives, their friends lives, or their relative's lives. Fifteen minutes of reluctant waving later, we made it to the inn, and slipped inside. Two of the troopers barred the door with their halberds, outside, and we all but ran in.

"Lathander's mercy...last time I was here, they wanted me swinging from a lampost!"

Jaheira grumbled something incoherent, leaned her staff against the doorframe. She was pissed. I looked at the patrons, who all were obviously pretending not to pay attention. The corporal was stuck in with us anyways. He looked surprised, stressed and sweaty as he removed his helm.

"Anything else, sir?"

"C'mon, let me buy you a drink, I know sure as hell I need one."

"I'm on duty, Hero."

"Shut up. One beer won't kill you."

"Yessir."

"Want anything, my love?"

"Wine, bring the bottle. By Silvanus, these people are raving lunatics."

Jaheira stripped off her cloak as I headed upstairs to the bar in full armour. I could hear the strains of a violin as I climbed up the stairs, arriving mid song. The singer had brilliant red hair, and a weird brogue I couldn't quite place.

_"Spirits white as lightning, shall on my travels guide me_

_The moon would quake and the stars would shake, when' ere they espied me._

_No gypsy slut nor doxy, shall win my Hero from me_

_I'll weep all night, the stars I'll fight, the fray will well become me. "_

As soon as she saw me, she bowed as the violin kept on playing. I grunted, waved and gestured at the bartender. He was a bald man, with an enormous gut and strange facial tattoos, quite unlike Minsc's. He saluted as I approached, right fist to left shoulder, as the music continued.

"What's your pleasure, Hero?"

"Lathander...the fun never stops. Two of the dark stuff."

"Do you remember me, Hero?"

I stared at him intently, glanced over at the corporal for a clue. He shrugged, holding his beer.

"Nope, sorry."

The bartender shook his head sadly, smiling a little.

"Angelo fired me once you escaped. Instead of killing me, you held me and the others."

"You were Flaming Fist, then?"

"Sergeant Major, fourth company. Got a job here slinging suds a couple of days later, been here since."

"Sorry about getting you fired."

He shrugged noncommittally.

"You could've killed me, my platoon. But you made a point not to kill my people. I'm alive, I have a decent job and a roof over my head. My wife doesn't worry about me day in and day out. I just wanted to say thanks- you could've done things a lot different, but you didn't."

I nodded, took a sip of my beer. The next song started just as Jaheira came up the stairs, angry as hell.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Gonna spread this story line out a little more, try to break it down into an installment a week or something. Probably should be its own story, might just repost it as such.

Well, crap.

"Do you remember the last time we were here?" Jaheira growled as she pulled up a stool.

"I'd really rather not."

The corporal raised an eyebrow, and I turned to him for a quiet aside.

"The people of this city learned of my...heritage, and decided to evict me from the city. We left under veiled threats and a shower of rotten produce. It was pretty rough, but I think we missed the worst of it. Xan said they threw a riot on account of me- torches, pitchforks, effigies. You guys never half-ass anything, do you?"

He snickered a little into his beer, and I turned back to Jaheira.

"I know dear. How in the hell are we going to have a word with the Duke?"

She grunted, ran a hand through her hair and took a big mouthful of wine. When she looked at me, I could see bags under her eyes, doubt in her clear green eyes.

"We should not have come."

"I know."

"No, we should not have come."

"I know. I think the corporal is going to be stuck as our runner for a few hours, though. We need a word with Belt and the others."

The corporal finished his beer, thanked me. Jaheira and I scribbled down a couple of notes each, and sent him on his way before turning back to each other.

"Now we wait," she told me, sighing. We ordered some food, ate quietly. Jaheira was always vocal, so seeing her quiet was rough on my nerves. She almost always had something to say about everything. The music played on. We made small talk, but I could still see something was bothering her.

"Seriously, Jaheira. What's the matter?"

She put down her fork, a hunk of chicken still on it. She looked me dead in the eyes.

"I think you're being a damn fool, whelp. You came to the very doorstep of those who want you dead for a small debt of honor. I _think_ you're going to get yourself killed, at long last," she growled to me. She was angry, very angry, and trying to hide it. Not doing too good on that part, but at least trying.

"What?" I asked, like a dolt.

"Do you not believe there are many in this city wanting you dead, for killing their kin, their livelihood, for what you are?"

"There's bound to be a few."

"Hah! A few? Well then, do you not believe that some, instead of simply being polite and stabbing you in the front like usual, have decided this time to hide their daggers behind handshakes and smiles?"

"Are you suggesting that Belt is plotting to kill me? Or a priest of freaking Luck?"

She threw up her hands in frustration.

"Do you not see it? Do you not see that you are a threat to so many, that all may not be as it seems?"

She had raised her voice. I tried to calm her down, but then again, I'm sure you know how good I am at calming people down.

"Jaheira..."

"Remember Xzar, whelp. Remember what your hand did to him. I'm going to unpack upstairs."

She huffed, picked up her backpack, and stomped off. I took a swig of beer, looked at the Sergeant Major.

"She's right, Hero."

"Gods damn it."

He absentmindedly polished a glass as I dug into my food, then hers. Hell, I was hungry, and there's not much use letting it go to waste. I thought about things. She was right. I turned back towards the barkeep.

"So, tell me what you think, Sergeant Major."

"Just Taylin, nowadays. Well, I think that this is a big deal, been planned for a half-year. I think there's a fair bit of resentment from quite a few people from what happened seven years ago. Lots of good will, tons of it in fact. Lots of people have come back around, and there's a lot of Throne veterans and supporters of yours here. I think that if I really wanted to waste you, this would be the time to do it. Big crowds to hide in, lots of your people around, so their morale will be crushed. They know almost for certain that you'll be here. They won't make the mistake of taking you on head on, though. They know you've left armies and dragons and just about every person who ever tried to hurt you dead or in chains, just because they tried to come at you head on. They know you CAN die. They know you lost your divinity. So, they'll come at you from behind, from the side, and try to kill you that way."

"Sounds like you know an awful lot about these people," I said, hand already full of steel. I was just about ready to plunge it into his chest.

"Put your steel away, Hero. Do you think that if I was one of these plotters, that you'd still upright considering that you don't have a taster? Poisoned, boom. Done. But I do hear an awful lot, and I've done deed blacker than sin or night in my time. I'm just telling you how I'd do it, how I've done it, how others have done it. You may not know it, but there are a great number of people protecting you, even now."

The dagger slipped back into its sheath. I pushed my plate forwards.

"That's good news."

"Yeah, I suppose. I guess we'll see come the day of your sermon how things go. Just...be careful."

I nodded, crossed my arms on the bartop, and rested my head on them as my thoughts spin wildly out of control. Assassins. You'd think that at some point, people would stop trying considering the amount of very good, highly paid individuals I've put in the ground. Jaheira had a point with her Xzar comment, though. Good intentions and friendly faces sometimes hid a poisoned knife.

Great.

I felt a presence slide into the barstool to my left. I looked up, expecting Jaheira.

"Mai woard," came the voice from behind a mess of red hair, "duunt yu seam doon. Keer t'speek yuir maind?"


	28. And now, for something completely

**A/N:** Well, I just spent another six Goddamn weeks in a sling. Had another major shoulder scope. This is the first piece I've finished since. Sorry for the continuity break.

Well, crap.

I was soaked to the freakin' bone. I had been that way for about three hours. The sun had set two hours before that, to boot. I was shivering violently, ankle deep in red mud. More that that, I was freakin' PISSED OFF. So as soon as I saw that door, I leaned back, and kicked as hard as I could. The door flew open with a bang. I could see the whites of wide open eyes beyond it. I took two steps in, the weight of my armor and weapons giving each a nice, rich *thunk* noise. My hood was low over my face.

"Whiskey for my men!"

The barkeep scrambled to comply as Minsc and Kivan stepped in on either side of me. We musta looked like a wall of hate. Well, at least till Jaheira shoved us aside.

"By Silvanus, man. Out of the way, we all need to get around the fire."

With that, all the tenseness and anger faded from us. I felt my shoulders unclench as Dynaheir eased behind Minsc and Imoen pushed me forwards enough to close the door against the raging storm. I shook myself off like a dog as Dynaheir sniffed and wrinkled her nose.

"And for the ladies, m'lord?" ventured the flabby, ill kempt barkeep.

"Also whiskey," I managed, barely masking a smile.

"And for your horses?"

"If I had any, they would get beer. Do you have any food?"

He shivered a second, thinking.

"I can rouse the wife, if ye wish..."

"Naw, don't bother. Just heat up some leftovers or something. But move it on that whiskey before I freeze to death."

Khalid shouldered his way in, teeth chattering. He slammed the door behind him.

"No-o one be-be-behind us-s."

I honestly couldn't tell whether it was his stutter, the cold, or both working on that sentence. Jaheira heaved a sigh and sat him down in front of the roaring fire. Before we knew it, there was a tray of drinks on the rough wooden table, the innkeep bowing as he rushed.

"You scared the man!" Minsc commented.

"Yeah, I guess so," I responded, thinking on the matter as I looked into the flames. Then, something snapped.

I looked into the flames, and I saw myself. Well, two of myself. One bore a blue and white standards, the other a black hand on a red background. Both stood at the head of opposing, massed armies. Both led. Both seemed to inspire confidence with ease. Both seemed...myself. Both had done terrible things. Both had...

"SLAINTE!" Minsc roared.

Minsc shoved a drink in my hand, and I grinned.

"To good friends!"

I took back the burning liquid, sat my ass down to a plate of reheated mutton, and looked at my friends. For a moment, I completely forgot about the hobgoblin ambushed, the dreams, the visions. All I saw were good times, drink, food, and a warm bed after a long day.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** I suck at deadlines.

Well, crap on a stick.

My head was spinning. Apparently, I had agents acting on my behalf. In addition to this, I was threatened by some unseen force, Jaheira was in a tiff, and the singer from the tavern was hitting on me.

"Listen, lady..."

"Moira."

"Moira, then. I've had a rough day, I have a rough day coming up tomorrow. You got until I finish my beer to state your business."

"Oh, aye, colder'n aice, you. Wot's on yer maind?"

"The usual."

Half my beer was gone. I was tempted to just throw it all back. Every moment away from Jaheira, the calmer she would get, though...in theory.

"Demons? Dragons?"

"Neither. I have a sermon to give tomorrow. I have no idea what's going on, the wife's pissed, I'm pissed, and I feel like an idiot everywhere I go in this Gods-damned city because I have a posse of protectors acting without my knowledge or consent."

"Oh, aye hero. S'ah tierrible thing, thaht."

"Is there anything in particular you want, Moira?"

A quarter beer to go, and the singer was just staring at me. She smiled.

"Nay, nay...ah'll see yu at yer sermon tomrru, aye?"

"Alright."

I shrugged, finished my beer, and headed upstairs. Jaheira wasn't mad. She did look like she had a mean headache, though. She had changed into her clothes, and sat on the side of the bed with her head in one hand.

"You alright, love?" I asked quietly as I slipped in the room.

"Yes, yes," she grumbled, "just a headache. The sooner this ends, the sooner we leave this place, the better."

I pulled off my shirt, crawled into bed. I wrapped my arms around Jaheira, and she kissed my hand with a sigh. She knew I was going to be going through hell the next day, somehow. She couldn't stop me from doing it. But she'd be right there with me...like I said, she was always my bar of iron in an ever-changing world of water. The world had changed since the Battle of the Throne- hell, since I toppled Sarevok. I slept alright. It was one hell of a day, that sermon.

BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG BG

There was a small stack of scrolls waiting for me in the morning. We woke just after dawn, before Lathander's glory crept over the walls. I said my prayers, sat down to breakfast with my pile of messages. Belt assured me of everything, told me to show up in the courtyard of the Flaming Fist citadel. Or at least his letter did. Corporal Hobart was waiting for us, having his own breakfast when we came down. He had four troopers with him, and the Sergeant Major was gone. The corporal saluted.

"Sir, once you're done breakfast, Belt wants you at the citadel."

"I read as much, Hobart. What's the itinerary like?"

"Couldn't say, sir."

"Great," mumbled Jaheira around a mouthful of bread and cheese, "just what I wanted to hear."

Her armor gleamed, and her eyes glinted dangerously. She didn't like the corporal, I could see it. So we ate, talking about the details of the sermon, about what I wanted to say. Apple juice, eggs, bread, cheese. A little leftover roast would've made the meal, but it was good enough. When we were done, I looked over Jaheira, and she looked over me. Our armor gleamed. Our weapons shone. We looked and felt like a million gold. Hell, I looked like Lathander's personal avatar. Engravings of suns on my armor all but glowed as I shouldered my shield.

"Ready, sir?"

"Alright, corporal, lead on."

We got to the citadel in good time. No crowds at that hour, I guess. The Flaming Fist were at every intersection, at every corner, looking vigilant. The security was, in a word, intense. I could see shadows flitting as we walked. I thought about bringing it up before Linvail himself emerged from one pocket of early-morning shadow and nodded at me. I nodded back politely as he fell in.

"Aran."

"Hero! Good to see you in such fine health. M'lady, likewise."

"Go die in a fire, thief," Jaheira growled, "I have much on my mind today, and caving in your skull would do wonders to relieve some stress."

I shrugged apologetically. I didn't like the guy, but he had backed me up a bunch of times. He had helped deal with slavers, fought at the Throne, and helped against Bodhi. I couldn't be rude to him, right?

"Sorry, Aran. Lots of stress."

"Ah yes, it's fine. How are we this glorious morning?"

"Had better days. No one's telling us a damn thing about this sermon."

For half a second, I swear I saw surprise on his face. It was concealed pretty quick, though.

"No need to worry. This is the fifth anniversary being marked by the city. My men are in the crowds, keeping everything under control in full collaboration with the Flaming Fist."

That tripped all kinds of alarm bells. What the hell was going on?

"Aran, what the hell? When the hell did the Shadow Thieves start helping the law?"

"When our interests coincide," he said with a sly smile, "and your safety is the apex of just that."

"Give it to me straight- is someone going to try to kill me?"

"There have been rumblings. Some persons have been...encouraged to stay at home. But yes, there has been some rumors that your enemies are looking to this occasion to kill you."

"Anything more specific?"

"Couldn't say, old friend. I have to get to the square, enjoy your parade."

And just like that, he was gone. Parade? What in the hell was going on?

"Corporal, what's this about a parade?"

"Can't say sir, but I'd expect it's likely the same one as last year."

I was just all screwed up. Jaheira growled, trying to piece everything together.

"Lathander, Corporal. An annual parade..."

And then it hit me. That day was the anniversary of the Battle of the Throne. A lot of people who showed up came from Baldur's Gate, Beregost, and Candlekeep. A lot of people lived in those three cities after the fight, especially the Gate and Candlekeep. It only made sense they'd have a little shindig to remember. I guess it had just slipped by me, what with being run out of town. We turned the corner to see the citadel decked in my colours, my banner flying right beside the Fist's. Great. Blue and white streamers off of every single lamp-post.

We walked into the courtyard in front of the citadel without great fanfare. Everyone was ready before we got there- they were all formed up in platoons, the huge bearskin-clad warriors of Rashamen, the elves of Suldanessellar under their green and grey banner, the local rangers, the clergy from a dozen different temples, the knights...

The Flaming Fist officer at the front called out commands.

"Company, atten...HUT!"

I heard boots slam and scrape on cobbled stone. The officer drew his sword, saluted me. I just sort of stood there awkwardly, gave a half-assed salute of my own.

"Thanks for coming out this year, sir. Means a lot to the troops."

I nodded, looking past him for familiar faces. They weren't hard to find as people began breaking rank to come over and see me.

"Ah, hahaha, young pup!"

"Keldorn!"

He reached out, and we clasped arms. Anomen wasn't far behind, and Coran was hugging Jaheira before I knew it.

"Old man, it's been awhile! Everyone, how've things been?"

Apparently, it was a huge reunion. Kivan was there, Alora, Minsc even came. My best friends, with a few absences- Viconia and Sarevok were gone for obvious reasons, Aerie was gone too. In about three seconds I was surrounded by familiar faces, exchanging handshakes and hugs (but only manly, masculine, stiff hugs).


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Been playing some BG:EE. Brought back memories, and Neera is...inoffensive. An interlude. This year hasn't been the best, cry your pardons. I have hardly updated Mess Banter or bar Talk, and for that I am sorry. A break, for the moment.

I grunted.

Jaheira laughed, leaning up against the side of the yurt. Dead were the bandits, yes. I had fought my first real fight. She sipped her water as I bled- Imoen was checking the chest, and Neera was tending to me poorly. Brawen just frowned. I panted. We had ambushed them, yes. I had swigged the potion, felt the energy, the strength flow through me. Covered in soot, we waited till nightfall. We waited until they were drunk, or at least drinking. Ten of us, covered in ash and anger, listened.

"And then I kicked him in the head until he was dead, hahahaha!"

I couldn't stand it much longer. I looked down at my palm. I wondered if any of those hide-huts had slaves in them. Captives. Hostages. But we had been watching for hours, and nothing. I made the call, in the end. I decided to make the risk, hope for the best. It was going to be the signal to the other party lurking around the edges of the hobgoblin camp. I thumbed the spoon, and lobbed the Potion of Explosions towards the ring of bandits around the bonfire. They didn't stand a chance.

There was an almighty burst of fire and thunder, and screams. Then, whoops and warcries as my people broke ranks. I was in the center, of course. And that's why Khosann came for me. I can still remember our shields slamming together. I reached over, he reached under. My shield caught his hammer, and my mace knocked an eye out of his head. I followed up with a punch from my shield, and well...he won't be telling his side of the story. I don't like remembering it. I don't like remembering any of the people I've killed. He was evil, no doubt. But still...I didn't want to kill him.

I did anyways.

We cleared out the camp, and each hut. We cleared out Tazok's hut, without sign of the man himself. Lying there, panting after battle, Branwen looked at my huge shield. The boss was covered in blood. I guess I was hurt. Neera, still hiccoughing, stepped closer. She had her bandages in hand as Branwen and Jaheira frowned. It wasn't the girl's fault, really. But wild magic brigns out the protective streak in people around me. I smile at her as a badly wounded Branwen shoved her out of the way, and cast her very last spell on me. Branwen had two cracked ribs, and plenty of cuts. She needed it.

But she needed me more, I think.


End file.
